


Afterlife

by Mimi_Lind



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Titanic (1997)
Genre: Action & Romance, Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captain Will Turner, Complete, Crossover, Curse Breaking, Drunk Jack, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Heart of the Ocean, Humor, Jack being Jack, More Rum, Pigs, Pirates, Romance, Rum, Saving Will, Slow Burn, Sober Jack, The Black Pearl (Pirates of the Caribbean), The Flying Dutchman (Pirates of the Caribbean)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 43,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26125996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimi_Lind/pseuds/Mimi_Lind
Summary: “The Heart of the Ocean!” he whispered. “No wonder the Dutchman came for her!”Rose drowns when the Titanic sinks and gets picked up by Will Turner, the new captain of the Flying Dutchman. When he realizes she comes from the future, he can only think of one man who might know what to do: Captain Jack Sparrow.*COMPLETE!*
Relationships: Elizabeth Swann/Will Turner, Rose DeWitt Bukater/Jack Sparrow
Comments: 123
Kudos: 62





	1. Do You Fear Death?

“I’ll never let go, I promise.” Rose kissed the icy fingers of her dead lover and released him. She watched him slowly sink, following the Titanic down into the abyss. Soon the murky depth had swallowed him and he was gone. 

Jack had saved her, given up his own life so that she could survive. 

But for how long? She was so cold, and in the distance she saw the last lifeboat leaving.

“Come back!” she croaked, but they did not hear. With a yelp she slipped into the freezing water, the pain hitting her like a thousand needles. She fought to swim towards the boat but her heavy coat dragged her down. 

Where was her life vest? Turning her head she saw it on the makeshift raft where she had lain, stuck to its frozen surface. She had to return for it but her arms would not obey. All her limbs were numb, she could not feel her legs. 

Was this it? Had Jack died in vain? 

Only her nose was above the surface now, and then she slipped beneath it entirely. Above her the brilliant stars illuminated the night sky. A beautiful last view.

A strange calm came over Rose then. She would be rejoined with Jack, sharing his ocean grave. 

No longer able to resist, she drew one last breath. Cold water filled her lungs and everything went dark.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

“Do you fear death?”

Rose opened her eyes, looking about her with some surprise. She was standing aboard an old fashioned wooden ship, and below her feet smooth planks creaked quaintly in the rolling of the surf. The ship looked a bit strange with its seagrass-covered sails and odd pointy bits sticking out from the bow. The air was warm, tropical almost, and her thick coat began to steam slightly. 

“Do you fear death?” the voice repeated, speaking very politely in a British accent. Rose turned her gaze to the young man who owned it, regarding him with curiosity. He seemed to be around her own age, with dark, shoulder length hair held back from his forehead by a grey scarf. His white shirt was daringly open up front, exposing a broad, tanned chest and a seashell pendant around his neck. An ugly scar across his heart maimed the otherwise appealing view.

“Are you a pirate?” she asked. He reminded her of someone from Peter Pan. 

“What? Uh… well I guess I am. Was.” The question clearly confused him. “Anyway, I should be the one asking the questions. And you haven’t replied.”

“Who are you then?” Rose noticed other faces now, a row of more pirates or whatever they were lined up behind the man. They were mumbling among each other. 

“I’m Captain Turner of the Flying Dutchman.” He bowed elegantly. A surprisingly well bred pirate, apparently.

“Where am I? Here’s a lot warmer than the North Atlantic.”

“This is the Caribbean Sea,” said Captain Turner. “But we travel all around the world, and we did indeed collect you in the Atlantic. I just find these waters more pleasant, so whenever we need to surface this is where I take her.” He patted the railing of his ship. 

“I’m dead, am I not?” None of this felt real. Like one of those very strange dreams one might have during a fever. Rose found it hard to take anything seriously.

“Aye, Miss. Do you fear it?”

“You keep asking me that. Why?”

“I have to ask it. If you do fear death, I can offer you service aboard the Dutchman, and if not I shall guide you to the afterlife.” He smiled reassuringly. 

“Captain?” interrupted an older man.

“Yes, Mr Turner?”

“Are you sure about this… I mean, she doesn’t exactly _look_ like a sailor.”

“What? She must be.” The captain’s dark eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her, taking in her large coat, flimsy evening dress and elegant high-heeled pumps that she had worn when the Titanic sank. 

He paled. “You _are_ a sailor, aren’t you?” 

“No.”

“ _No_?” Now he was flushing with embarrassment. “Oh dear. What have I done?” He cast a helpless look at the man who had spoken before. 

“Don’t worry, son– uh, Captain.” He put an arm around the younger’s shoulders. “We’ll figure this out.” He turned to Rose. “Tell us what happened. How did you drown, Miss...?”

“Dawson,” she filled in, shamelessly using Jack’s last name for her own. They _had_ been married as far as she was concerned, albeit not legally. “Well, I was travelling to America, but then my ship collided with an iceberg and...” Her voice trailed off. A pang of grief stabbed her heart as she recalled Jack’s cold, dead face. “And then it sank”. 

“I see,” said the man kindly. 

“It’s odd though,” said the captain. “Why did the Dutchman want to pick her up? Something pulled me there, I _felt_ it.”

“I know no more of this than you do, Captain.” 

“Maybe I could just stay here with you?” suggested Rose. She had looked forward to a long, carefree life, no longer bound to her former fiancé. Jack had told her she would die an old lady, and she had believed him. But instead she had drowned. Becoming a pirate would at least be _something_ , and it was probably a lot more interesting than her old, confining society life. 

“That’s not possible, I’m afraid, only sailors can serve on the Dutchman. But I shall take you to the afterlife. It was nice meeting you, Miss Dawson.” The captain stepped closer but Rose hurriedly backed away.

“Whoa! Wait a minute… What’s the hurry?” Her mind worked fast. There must be something she could use to bribe him with, some way she could make him allow her to live. As she took another step backwards, she heard a jingle from her coat pocket. The necklace!

Rose slowly pulled out the brilliant, heart shaped diamond on its white gold chain and held it up. The blue stone sparkled and glittered dazzlingly in the sun, but the collective gasps of shock from her audience were quite unexpected. Surely pirates must have seen treasure before?

“The Heart of the Ocean!” whispered the older man. “No wonder the Dutchman came for her!”

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

Rose was starting to feel seasick, which was ridiculous after so many days at sea, but the rolling of this ship was more prominent than the smooth motions of the much larger Titanic. She felt an additional queasiness because her future was so undecided. Would her necklace be enough to buy her more time? She was too young to die, it felt like her life had barely begun.

The crew were still talking excitedly. They were standing in a circle, passing the diamond from hand to hand as they examined it almost reverently. She hoped they would not just take it, pirates as they were. But was there not some sort of code of honour pirates abided by? 

Come to think of it, this lot seemed rather strange pirates. She would have imagined them to use more modern weapons than swords and flintlock pistols nowadays.

The heat was becoming unbearable so Rose removed her heavy coat. She considered tossing the thing overboard, as it had belonged to her ex whom she would rather forget. But she refrained, it might come in handy yet. She owned nothing but the clothes on her back now.

“You look pale, Miss. Would you like something to drink?” It was the other sailor, whom the captain had called Mr Turner. He was middle aged with pale hair and blue eyes, and his Nordic features reminded Rose a bit of Olaf, one of Jack’s Scandinavian friends aboard the Titanic. She had danced with him in a much happier time, it felt like ages ago now. 

The pang of grief returned. Olaf was dead, Fabrizio was dead. Jack and all his friends were dead. Heck, _she_ was dead too.

“Yes, please,” she whispered. 

He brought her a goblet of a ruby red liquid which proved to be a very sweet port wine. She would have preferred water, but politely swallowed a few mouthfuls.

“Thank you, Mr Turner.”

“Please, call me Bill, or just Bootstrap.” He had the warmest smile, and Rose felt herself returning it. 

“Can you tell us how you came by this necklace?” The captain had returned, the Heart of the Ocean dangling from his hand. 

“My fiancé… _ex_ fiancé gave it to me.”

“And where did he get it?”

“Bought it, I assume. It originally came from Louis the Sixteenth’ crown, and when he was killed someone took it and recut it into a heart shape.”

“You mean Louis the Fourteenth? I thought he died of an illness.”

“No, the fourteenth was way before the Revolution. Wasn’t he the one they called King Sun? He who had no toilets, so everyone in his court used the corridors to… you know. And at his parties the maids had to crawl underneath the tables with chamber pots.” She giggled at the memory of just about the only fun part of her History lessons with her boring old tutor. 

“What revolution…?” asked the captain.

“And what’s a toilet?” added Bill.

“What, have you never heard about the French Revolution? The end of monarchy in France? Happened back in the late eighteenth century.” She hesitated, seeing the crew’s eyes go wide as they looked at each other in disbelief. “What’s wrong?”

“When did you die, exactly?” Bill’s voice was hoarse. “I mean, what year?”

“1912 of course, it was just this morning!” Then she hesitated. How long had she been dead? “What year is it now?”

“It’s 1729…”

Rose had to grab the railing to steady herself. Had she just travelled back in time two hundred years?

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

”I haven’t got time for this. Even now, souls are waiting,” complained the captain. It seemed Rose’s time travel had made things very complicated for the poor young man. He looked frustrated about the whole thing, and no wonder, apparently he was new to the job. 

“If she’s from the future we can’t take her to the afterworld in _this_ time,” he continued. ”And what to do with the Heart? Calypso ought to have it back, but I can’t summon her.” He scratched his scarf. 

“Aye, it’s an unfortunate business,” agreed Bill.

“I really only know one man who might be able to help,” said the captain, and the older man nodded. They spoke the name in unison:

“Captain Jack Sparrow!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go, the most epic and beautiful movie characters I know (apart from Tolkien’s elves) to be gathered in one fic! Rose, Will, Elizabeth and of course the one and only, Captain Jack Sparrow! Only poor Jack Dawson didn’t get to join the fun...
> 
> Trivia: “Bootstrap” Bill Turner, Will’s father, was played by Swedish actor Stellan Skarsgård. His son Alexander (known from Tarzan and True Blood among other movies) is some sweet eye candy if there ever was one. ;) Too bad I can’t put him in the story too, or perhaps I can…? *ponders*
> 
> As usual I crosspost on FFN and Wattpad.


	2. Captain Jack Sparrow

Captain Jack Sparrow. That was the name of the man who could supposedly help Rose, by summoning the sea goddess Calypso and give her the Heart of the Ocean in return for taking Rose back to her own time, where she would enter the afterlife and be reunited with Jack.  _ Her _ Jack, that was. 

It all sounded rather complicated and frankly very scary too. The way they spoke of the sea goddess, and for that matter of this Sparrow fellow, made Rose uneasy. They seemed dangerous. 

Sure, she was dead already, what could they do to her that was worse than that? Problem was, she could actually think of many things they could do. The pirates/sailors aboard this ship were decent enough, albeit a bit rough, but she had a feeling they were not the norm. The pirates in Peter Pan had been really nasty creatures who seemed to love using their swords on anyone within their range, no questions asked. 

It was not much Rose could do however, she was at the mercy of Captain Turner. This was his ship, and he would steer her wherever he saw fit, which right now apparently was an infamous port called Tortuga.

The captain did not know for sure if Sparrow would be in Tortuga, but as he put it, if not, someone in that town would know where he had gone. Everybody knew everything about everybody in the capital of the pirates.

The Dutchman was rolling heavily as she went, swaying from side to side. The motion of the ship had been bad enough when she was still, but that was nothing in comparison to her going forward. Captain Turner explained she was not built to sail above the surface, but with Rose aboard they could not dive like they would normally do.

“But I’m dead anyway, am I not? I couldn’t very well drown twice.” 

“You’re dead in your time, aye. But here you’re alive until I lead you to the afterlife. Only I can’t, because you come from the future, which means you aren’t really dead anymore. In fact you’re not even born yet.” 

“This is so confusing.” She rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache beginning to form.

He smiled wistfully. “It takes time to adapt. To accept it.” He was unconsciously touching his chest as he spoke.

“You’re dead too,” she realized. 

“Not exactly dead, but bound to this ship in exchange for being allowed to live on, despite the mortal wound I received. ‘One day ashore. Ten years at sea,’ that was the deal.”

“Ten years? That’s harsh… When is your next day ashore, then?”

“That would be nine years, eleven months and eight days.” He looked at the sky. “And… four or five hours, give or take.” The captain’s dark eyes filled with longing as he regarded the distant horizon.

Rose recognized that look. “What’s her name?” 

He met her gaze, smiling sadly. “Elizabeth. Elizabeth Turner, my wife.”

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

The Dutchman arrived outside Tortuga the next morning, after a very unpleasant evening and night for Rose in a hammock below deck. Thankfully she did not throw up, that would have been beyond embarrassing in front of all those hardy sailors, but she felt a continuous queasiness and had lost her appetite entirely. The fare aboard was none too exciting anyway, consisting more or less exclusively of hardtack crackers, salted fish and foul smelling water. And alcohol. Rum and port wine aplenty.

The crew lowered a dinghy from the ship’s stern.

“Here’s where you have to continue alone,” said Captain Turner. “We’ll wait for you and Jack.” 

Rose regarded the town ahead. It looked mostly like a collection of shanties scattered in a jungle, with a few more permanent buildings near the dock. Many jetties stretched out into the bay, the nearest perhaps half a mile away from where the Dutchman was anchored. 

“Can’t you take me a little closer?”

“Sorry, no. This is as near land as we are allowed to go – and besides, the Dutchman might scare people.”

Rose sighed. Thank God she knew how to row.

She felt very lonely as she slowly and rather clumsily took off, morosely watching the ship get more distant with every pull on the oars. Already the noise from Tortuga drifted her way and it sounded not good at all. Brawling men’s voices mingled with the barking of dogs and the occasional loud yell. Rose  _ hoped _ the latter were merchants advertising their goods and not somebody being hurt. 

The closer to land she got, the louder the clamour, and the air became heavy with a foul cocktail of smells: waste, unwashed human bodies and smoke. The water was disgusting too, full of excrement and debris.

She arrived at last, and a child in shorts and a grubby shirt came up to her as she tied the dinghy to a bollard. 

“Want me to guard yer boat, ma’m?” 

She nodded. “If the boat remains here when I return, you shall have this.” She flipped an uneven silver coin between her fingers. “And if you can also direct me to one Captain Jack Sparrow I’ll double the amount.” It was Bootstrap Bill who had given her the money and explained how to best proceed once she came ashore. 

The kid grinned, showing a row of discolored milk teeth with a wide gap in the middle. He must be a lot younger than he looked.

“That’s easy, ma’m. He’s in the large yellow house with the nude ladies.”

Rose frowned as she left the boy. At his age, he should not know about that kind of establishment. 

The jetty was long with many boats tied to it, mostly fishing vessels and smaller freight ships, and the occasional dinghy like the one she had come in. The larger ships lay anchored further out in the bay, just like the Dutchman. 

Men of various ages, colors and sizes were working around her as she went, doing such chores as one might expect; swabbing decks, splinting rope, loading or unloading goods. Their clothes looked very different from those worn by the Titanic’s crew, but otherwise the men appeared strangely familiar. Almost as if sailors were a certain kind of human species who behaved and looked the same all over the world, and even across time itself.

Tortuga had no paved streets. A maze of dirt roads criss-crossed between the buildings, and the narrow alleys were crowded with peddlers, caged animals and people. The noise was deafening. 

Rose trod carefully around puddles of unnamed nastiness in her high-heeled pumps. She had rarely felt more like an outsider than here, wearing her flimsy dress and impractical shoes, and with her white skin and overall clean appearance making her stand out among all tanned faces. People stared rudely, and she did not at all like the looks some of the men gave her. She was easy prey and they knew it.

Thankfully the yellow house the boy had mentioned was situated close to the dock. It was one of the few stone buildings in the town, and from its somber appearance she would have guessed it to be a town hall or similar rather than a brothel. The two lightly dressed women leaning against its wall were a giveaway though, as well as the one sitting in an open, second storey window calmly regarding the busy street below.

Rose hesitated outside the open door, listening to the murmur of conversation and bursts of female laughter spilling out. This was not a place for a well-bred lady like herself to go into, or even know about, and the prospect of seeing something indecent in there was both revolting and a little bit tempting. 

Well, there was nothing for it, she had to find Jack Sparrow.  _ Her _ Jack had taught her how to spit like a man, and now it was time to visit a whorehouse like a man too. With boldly squared shoulders she entered the building.

She had to stop for a few seconds to adjust her vision to the darkness after the bright, tropical sunlight outside. The room was dimly lit by fuming wax candles in empty bottles, and looked like an old tavern or pub. There were several long tables with crude benches, simple planks placed on top of empty beer barrels. At this early hour the place was nearly deserted, with only a few sailors scattered among the tables eating a late breakfast, and in a corner a fat man snoring, his hat drawn down to cover his face. 

A cluster of bored-looking women stood or sat around the bar, wearing colorful dresses with narrow waists and wide skirts where layers of lace peeked out underneath. Their low decolletages exposed a large part of their breasts, pushed up by tightly laced corsets. Quite scandalous, but at least they were not nude like Rose had feared after what the boy had said. 

She went up to the barman, a gangly fellow with bushy side-whiskers and greying hair bound in a loose ponytail. Most men Rose had seen since her arrival in this time wore their hair long like that. 

”Excuse me, sir, where can I find Captain Jack Sparrow? I was told he might be here.”

“ _ Excuse me sir _ ,” mimicked one of the women, bringing forth jeering giggles from the others.

“I have the great misfortune to report that the man in question is preoccupied, my fair lady!” The barman bowed with mocking elegance.

Apparently being polite would do Rose no good among this lot. She scowled at them and hauled out her money pouch from where she had hid it in her cleavage, slamming down a couple of silver coins on the bardisk. 

“Two shillings says he’s not.” 

The man straightened himself and quickly collected the money. “Right. My pleasure to get him for you, miss. He’s overstayed anyway.” He turned to a woman with red hair in an unnatural hue, worn in a voluminous hairdo with long corkscrews trailing down on either side of her face. “Scarlett.” He beckoned his head upwards.

The woman rolled her eyes at him and disappeared up a spiral staircase. She was gone for quite some time, during which Rose cautiously accepted a glass of amber liquid and sipped the strong liquor. Rum really was disgusting. 

“So, are you the little wifey then?” asked the barman conversationally. He was drying glasses with a once white towel.

“Of course not!” Rose scoffed. As if she would ever marry a man visiting establishments like this, likely catching all sorts of venereal diseases. 

A noise of something breaking and two people arguing came from upstairs, and then Scarlett came stomping back, her cheeks flaming in annoyance.

“The bastard,” she muttered under her breath.

“Tricked you of your coin again, eh?” chuckled the barman. “When will you learn to make him pay up  _ before _ he gets his fun?”

Rose did not hear what the woman answered because another person came swaying down the stairs, one whose personality was large enough to fill the entire room. She knew she was staring, but found it impossible to look away. 

Now she understood why Turner had believed Captain Jack Sparrow to be capable of summoning a sea goddess. This man seemed capable of just about anything. 

She could not really say what was so special about the man. He was not tall and his clothes were the opposite of fine; a rough grey vest over a partly unbuttoned shirt and a red scarf wrapped around his ebony, shoulder-length tresses. Part of his hair was braided and thread with a row of beads, and his beard was plaited as well. He looked every inch the pirate, complete with a triangular hat in his hand.

“Mr Sparrow I presume?” she asked, as he unsteadily approached the bar, emitting a reek of stale alcohol and sweat.

He tried to focus his black eyes on her. “ _ Captain  _ Jack Sparrow. Why can’t people learn?” Then he turned to the man in the bar. “Rum. Make it a bottle.”

“Interesting choice of breakfast,” remarked Rose, wrinkling her nose as another whiff of drunk man reached her nostrils.

“Pay first,” said the barman, with a smug look at the red haired prostitute. 

Jack looked wounded. “Where’s your sense of hospitality, mate?”

“Show me some silver and I shall be ever so cordial.”

“I’ll pay,” offered Rose, producing another shilling from her bosom. 

That maneuver awarded her the pirate’s undivided attention. “You’re the lady who wanted to see me,” he stated, while the barman fetched him a dusty bottle and a glass. 

“Rose Dawson.” She held out her hand. Jack Sparrow seemed perplexed, peering at the limb like it might bite him before cautiously shaking it. His hand felt strong and warm to the touch but was very dirty, and Rose suppressed an urge to pull back too soon. 

“So, Miss Dawson, are you often in the habit of buying drinks to strangers?” Sparrow ignored his glass and pulled a deep swig straight out of the bottle, without taking his eyes away from Rose. 

Was the man using makeup? His eyelids and lashes seemed to be painted in an inky black color. 

“No. But I need your help.” She fought to not avert her gaze. The force of his intense presence and his unblinking stare was intimidating.

Sparrow’s dark eyes narrowed. “My help,” he repeated and swallowed another mouthful. “Who sent you?” 

“Captain Turner.”

“Turner, Turner…” he pondered, and then appeared to remember. “Oh, the eunuch!”

“What?”

“Poor boy. Well, what does the whelp want this time? Rescue another girl? Become free of the Dutchman’s curse?” 

“He…  _ we _ need help summoning Calypso.”

“Calypso?” Sparrow, the barman and Scarlett had spoken simultaneously, Jack spilling rum all over the bardisk in the process and the barman crossing himself piously. 

“Nice meeting you, girl, I got somewhere to be. Cheers!” Jack Sparrow grabbed the bottle and hurriedly wobbled away towards the door.

“No! Wait!” Rose ran after him, trying to grab his arm but he was much stronger and did not even slow down. 

“Wait,” she repeated. They were out in the street now. “You’re the only person who knows how to summon her, and Turner says we must give her the Heart of the Ocean back.”

Sparrow stopped so suddenly she walked into him, hitting her nose on his straight back.

“The  _ what _ ?” he all but yelled.

When she opened her mouth to repeat, he clasped his hand over it. “No, don’t answer.” He looked over his shoulder. “Too many ears around.” 

“So, will you help us?” His hand reeked of rum and she forced it away from her face. 

“Take me to the eunuch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally he’s entering our story – the man, the legend, the drunkard! Will he help them? And will Rose get used to his bad smell? Let me hear your thoughts about it.
> 
> I shall take this opportunity to mention that since English is not my first language, I probably make grammar errors sometimes, and I apologize for them in advance. :)


	3. Pirate Without a Ship

Walking through Tortuga with Captain Jack Sparrow, Rose felt a lot safer than earlier when she had come alone. Everybody made way for him, clearly knowing who he was and not particularly eager to meet him. Or perhaps that was because of the smell.

The boy waited patiently beside the dinghy, and Rose paid him the agreed price while Jack leaned back comfortably in the bow of the small vessel, resting his head on his clasped hands.

She frowned when she joined him in the boat. “Aren’t you going to man the oars?”

“Why?” He closed his eyes and looked for all the world like a pirate taking a nap.

“Because you’re the sailor? Because you’re stronger? Because I have blisters in my hands from rowing before?”

“Nah. You can do it.” He smiled wickedly, the sun reflecting in one of his gold teeth. 

“Bastard,” she muttered under her breath and grabbed the oar handles. The fact that he opened his eyes to look at her in a rather intimate way when she rowed did not make her any less annoyed. She realized that her low neckline revealed an embarrassing expanse of her chest when she had to bend forward over the oars, and Jack Sparrow clearly enjoyed the view. 

“Your dress is nice,” he complimented and swallowed some more rum. She felt like grabbing the bottle and hit him on the head with it.

The sun stood high and very soon it became unbearably hot in the open boat, making her jealous of the captain’s triangular hat. When they finally arrived beside the Dutchman, Rose was soaked in perspiration, her palms were raw and she was ready to strangle the infuriating man in front of her.

Bill Turner lowered a rope ladder, and again Sparrow grinned wickedly.

“After you, Miss Dawson.”

She felt him eyeing her exposed legs as she gingerly climbed the ladder on her impractical shoes, and when Bill reached out a strong hand to help her the last way she breathed out in relief. 

Jack Sparrow nimbly followed, the rum bottle clasped protectively under one arm, and swung himself over the railing. He greeted Mr Turner with a smile and handshake.

“Bootstrap!” 

“Jack.”

Then he caught sight of the captain. “Eunuch! How fares the soul gathering business?” 

“Well, good up until now,” he said. ”And would you quit calling me eunuch? Ask my wife if you don’t believe me.” 

”Ah, the fair Elizabeth. Give her my regards the next time you see her.” He grinned evilly, clearly aware of the other’s predicament.

”I shall.” Captain Turner glared darkly at him. 

“So, tell me about this Calypso issue. How come you have her heart?”

The two Turners promptly filled him in on how Rose had drowned with the diamond in her pocket and been pulled back in time to end up here. 

“And this is where we need you. You and the other Pirate Lords summoned Calypso before, when you bound her in human form. You know how it’s done.” 

“Aye, I know how it’s done,” Jack Sparrow conceded. 

“Great. Then, when you’ve called the goddess forth, Rose will give her this.” The Captain held up the blue diamond. “And in exchange, Calypso must take Rose back to the future where she belongs, so she can enter the afterlife in peace.” 

Rose frowned. She still did not want to die. Perhaps the sea goddess could be persuaded to drop her off somewhere else? She would have to think more about that.

Jack Sparrow leaned forward, peering closely at the sparkling stone. “What a pretty little trinket.” He touched it gingerly, as one might do with something explosive and dangerous. Then he suddenly straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest. “What makes you think I want to do it? What’s in it for me?”

Of course… Obviously he would want something for his troubles, pirate as he was. Probably something valuable, at that, Rose figured. 

“I have some silver,” Captain Turner said.

“Silver.” Sparrow grinned, again flashing his shiny teeth. “I prefer gold.”

Rose silently counted up the things she owned, but the result was meagre; her dress and underwear, a pair of high-heeled shoes and a too large men’s coat. And the Heart of the Ocean, but apparently that belonged to this Calypso woman. 

Then she remembered. “My earrings!” She had almost forgotten she still wore those. They were elegant and probably quite expensive, two gold chains with a smooth white pearl hanging from each. Rose was rather fond of the pair, having been given them by her father when she turned sixteen. He had died not long after, leaving his wife and daughter to deal with his many depts, one of which probably had been created by his buying those earrings. Not that it mattered anymore.

With a sigh she removed the pair and held them out to the pirate. 

He picked one up and examined it speculatively. 

“They will do.” He quickly stowed away the jewels in a hidden pocket inside his shirt.

“So you will help me?” Rose could hardly believe he had changed his mind so easily. 

“Can you do it now?” asked the captain.

“Aye, and no. The items used for summoning should be no problem to gather, neither to find a proper location. But…”

“But?”

“I need a ship,” He mumbled, looking embarrassed. “Preferably one with black sails.” 

“You lost her again?” Captain Turner shook his head.

“I might have.” He looked away. 

“Lost what?” asked Rose.

“The Black Pearl. His ship.”

“My ship.” He nodded and pulled another deep draught from his bottle. 

“So you’re basically a captain without a ship?” Rose wondered.

Jack Sparrow gave her a hard glare. A sensitive topic, apparently. Rose stowed away the knowledge for later use.

“Well, I can’t help you get the Pearl back, I’m not allowed to use the Dutchman against living men. Have you no other ship?”

“I’m afraid not.” He shrugged, his expression morose.

The men silently pondered over the problem for some time, while Rose leaned her elbows on the railing and peered into the dark water. A seagull swooped down and landed a little way off, turning its eye towards her. It was peaceful out here in the bay, a pleasant change after walking through the loud and bustling town before.

”Maybe he could borrow the Barnacle?” Bill Turner said.

“No.” The captain frowned.

“But…”

“I said no!”

“Well then, gentlemen, I won’t be taking up your precious time any longer.” Jack walked to the railing. “If you’re tired of the dead guys, you could come with me,” he suggested to Rose in a loud whisper, winking in a very vulgar way. She gave him her best haughty glare, conveying how much above him she was in class and manners.

“Stop,” said Captain Turner. His frown had deepened and he sounded reluctant as he added: “I know a boat.”

“Great!” Jack rubbed his hands in a businesslike manner. “So, what are we waiting for?”

Within minutes the crew efficiently had weighed the anchor and set sail, and the ship was on her way again. 

Rose went forward in the ship, trying to distance herself from Jack Sparrow as much as possible. She did not trust the pirate one bit, he was too forward and the way he looked at her made her uncomfortable. It was also rather suspicious he had agreed to help her so readily, after he had been so reluctant back in the brothel. It was only after she had mentioned the Heart of the Ocean he changed his mind and came with her.

What if he intended to trick them all, take Rose’s earrings _and_ the Heart, dump her somewhere and just leave the scene? Possibly after taking advantage of her and stealing her clothes for good measure.

The problem was, she had no alternative but to go with him. What else could she do? She was trapped in this strange world, where she knew nobody and had no useful skills to earn her a living. If the way the men had looked at her in Tortuga was anything to go by, she would not be safer running away even if she could. 

A sharp point protruded from the Dutchman’s bow, and behind it Rose found a shelflike space where she crawled up to sit. The ship was running at a high speed now, and up here the wind beat her face, blowing back her loose, copper curls. Closing her eyes, Rose imagined standing in the prow of another ship, feeling the warm, firm body of a young man behind her. 

Hot tears wetted her lashes as she slowly extended her arms. _I’m flying!_ She had felt so alive, nearly bursting with happiness as she finally let go of all that was right and proper and followed her heart. Followed _him_.

Rose angrily rubbed the tears from her eyes. What a spoiled little girl she had been, miserable because she was supposed to marry Caledon Hockley and afraid to lose her freedom. Now, only days later, she felt old. She would have happily married Cal twice over if it could have given Jack his life back, if _she_ could be alive again. Anything was better than this. To be stuck alone in this horrible world, with horribly dirty towns, forced to trust these horrible men and…

“Don’t be sad, miss. We’ll sort it out.” Bill’s kind voice behind her made Rose jump. 

“Thank you,” she murmured, trying to hide her face.

He patted her arm awkwardly. She felt oddly moved by his clumsy attempt at comforting her. He was such a sweet man, and reminded her a little of her own late father. Not too bright, but Father had not been either. 

Bill pulled out a thick money pouch and the Heart of the Ocean and pressed the items into her hand.

“Will wanted me to give you these discreetly, and he said to keep them away from Jack Sparrow. That man can be unreliable around valuables.” 

“I bet he can. Will – is that the captain?”

“Aye, miss, I thought he had introduced himself. But he’s often a bit thoughtless, is my boy.” He smiled proudly.

“Oh, I didn’t know he was your son.” 

“Aye, he is.”

“Will and Bill.” She could not hold back a grin.

“We are both named William,” he explained needlessly. 

When the older man had left, Rose felt a little better. There was at least one good man in this world, and his son seemed nice as well. If only he had not been so obsessed with sending her to the afterlife.

A foul smell announced that Rose’s quiet space was once again being invaded. She missed the spacious Titanic with its many hiding places.

“What do you want?” She was thankful the pirate stood downwind.

“Just some pleasant conversation with a beautiful lady.” He bowed in a way probably intended to be elegant, but in his drunken state it looked awkward and wobbly. “So, you come from the future.”

Rose nodded, wishing he would go away.

“What will happen to me?”

“You?” She looked at him in surprise. “No idea. You die, I assume.”

“But I’m famous,” he scowled. “Surely Captain Jack Sparrow must be mentioned in the history books of your time?”

“Not that I remember, no…”

“You’re probably just uneducated,” he scoffed.

Rose shook her head and turned away, not deigning his comment worthy of a reply. Uneducated? That, from a pirate. 

Jack leaned leisurely against the railing next to her. After a while, she could not resist peeking at him from the corner of her eye. The pirate was regarding the horizon, his eyes narrowed in the bright light. She wondered what he was thinking of. Perhaps he was honing his plan to trick her? 

He reminded her of a cat, graceful and lean, constantly ready to pounce even when seemingly relaxed as now. His antics did not fool her, Jack Sparrow clearly was a dangerous man. How would she cope being alone with him? If only Bill or someone else on the Dutchman could have gone with her. 

The pirate suddenly turned his eyes to meet hers, and a small smile hinted beneath his moustache. Rose found it very hard to look away, and she realized her simile from before was wrong. Jack Sparrow was no cat, he was a lion, and right now she felt like a gazelle. Trapped.

“How did you lose your boat?” she asked, refusing to let any weakness show.

His smile instantly disappeared. “My _ship_ was stolen by a mutinous cur named Hector Barbossa.” He said the name like a curse word. Then his gaze softened and became deeply sad. “I had just gotten her back, too.”

“You seem fond of her.” 

“She is the love of my life.” He sounded completely sincere.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to reclaim her.” She tried to look sympathetic, but was secretly amused by his infatuation. There must be hundreds of other ships he could lay his hands on, pirate as he was. What was so special about this Black Pearl?

She had no time to ask though, because now the lookout cried from the mast. “Land ho!”

First Rose could only see a few strands of white smoke trailing over the horizon, but as the Dutchman came closer she soon discovered the quaint fishing village they originated from. The ship followed the coast some way further until it halted near a lonely house, built on a naked cliff, overlooking the open sea. Tied to a stone pier outside the house was a pretty little fishing boat. 

Captain Turner walked up to Rose and Jack. ”The owner of the boat lives over there, but as you know I can't go ashore. Tell her I sent you, and she'll let you use it. Or so I hope."

“She?” Jack peered at the captain suspiciously. “You don’t mean…?”

He was interrupted by a loud crack as the front door of the house was thrown open and a woman in a gray dress with a white apron tied around her waist hurried out. She shadowed her eyes with her hand, and then let out a shrill, happy yelp. She promptly ran to the pier and dived elegantly into the water, swimming out to them with speedy strokes.

“It would seem _your wife_ would rather you tell her in person,” said Jack smugly. 

Rose looked at the approaching young woman with curiosity. So this was the captain's wife, the one he could only visit every ten years. She was immensely beautiful, with dark eyes and hair, and there was a fierceness in her expression that Rose rather envied. This woman seemed not afraid of anything.

As Mrs Turner began to climb the rope ladder, Jack Sparrow's eyes went wide. "Oh! I almost forgot." He urgently scurried away, hugging his bottle. "Be right back. I'll just hide the rum!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why was Jack Sparrow so easily swayed to help a strange woman from the future? And will Elizabeth lend her boat to him? Most importantly: will she burn his rum again? The suspense is killing you, I'm sure!
> 
> Thanks to all you lovely humans who gave me kudos and commented! I always get insecure when beginning a new story, so your feedback means much at this stage.


	4. A Black Pig, a Silver Sword and Rum

The woman fell on the captain’s neck like she had not seen him in years, rather than weeks, unabashedly kissing him right in front of everybody. His furious blush proved he was not quite as unconcerned about their audience as his wife.

She let him go at last and curiously looked about her on the ship. “Who are you?” she asked Rose, but moved on to Jack Sparrow before she could answer: “And what are  _ you _ doing here?” Her voice was refined, sounding much like the posh, upper class Londoners Rose and her mother had mingled with during their Europe trip, the journey that had ended with their returning to America onboard the Titanic. 

Jack shrugged. “Ask the eunuch,” he suggested.

“I’m not–”

“You’re just jealous.” She turned to Will. “Why is Jack here?” 

Captain Turner quickly filled her in on what had happened, and introduced her and Rose to each other.

”Rose Dawson.”

”Elizabeth Turner.”

They shook hands, smiling. Rose instantly liked the other, admiring her openness and bossy behavior. 

Will asked Rose to show the necklace, and she pulled it out from its hiding place in her bosom. Elizabeth looked at the jewel with interest. “It’s beautiful!” She stroked the blue diamond. “And this belongs to Calypso?”

Will nodded. “Jack knows how to summon her, but he needs a ship.”

His wife was still regarding the object, looking thoughtful. “It must be very powerful if it pulled her back in time. Interesting. I wonder...” Then she seemed to have registered what Will had said. “A ship?” She turned to Jack. “Tsk, tsk. You lost the Pearl again.” She shook her head at him. 

“I will get her back,” he muttered, giving her a dark look.

“He wants to borrow your boat,” said Will. 

“ _ My _ boat? But it’s just a fishing boat.”

“It will do,” said Jack, regarding the vessel critically where it bobbed gently by the pier.

“You will break her. Or lose her. You seem to be good at losing ships.”

“I will do no such thing. I am Captain–”

“...Jack Sparrow, yes I know. Alright, you can borrow her–”

“Oh, great!”

“–but  _ then  _ I come along as well.”

“No!” said Jack and Will simultaneously. 

“Yes. It’s not negotiable.” She crossed her arms.

Rose kept her silence but secretly cheered on Elizabeth. It would be a relief to not be alone with the pirate.

“It’s not safe,” said Will earnestly. “I won’t survive if anything happens to you.”

“I can take care of myself. I  _ have to _ for another ten years,” she said. He flinched at that, looking a combination of sad and ashamed.

“Why can’t you live together here on the boat?” asked Rose. It seemed stupid they should be apart for such a long time, when they were obviously so much in love. 

“The Dutchman must be put to work. Even now the souls are gathering, waiting for me all over the world. I’m delaying, I have lingered on the surface too long.” Will rubbed his hair in exasperation, dishevelling his scarf. 

“It’s the curse,” added Elizabeth. “If he doesn’t do the job properly he will lose his humanity and become one with the ship. That’s what happened to his predecessor.”

“Ugh,” said Jack Sparrow, sticking out his tongue in disgust. “That was no pretty sight.”

“Will, I see how stressed you are,” said Elizabeth softly, stroking back her husband's hair and correcting his scarf. “Go. Take care of those poor souls.” She cupped his cheek. “I can handle this. I’ll keep an eye on Jack and make sure this whole summoning is properly done.”

“I don’t need babysitting,” Jack huffed.

“Then you shall have no boat. I’ll figure out how to summon Calypso and do it myself.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Rose. 

Jack first scowled at them, but then his features changed and became shrewd. “Alright then, tag along if you must. But stay away from my rum, savvy?”

“I don’t like this.” Will shook his head, but he made no more objections.

The captain and the rest of the crew were anxious to leave and resume their interrupted soul gathering before the curse hit them, so it was time to say farewell. Rose found it the most painful to leave Bill who had been so friendly and kind. There had been too many separations in her life recently, too many people she would never see again, and now she had to add more names to the list. She could not hold back her tears when she shook his hand.

“Don’t worry, miss. Everything’s gonna be alright.” He clasped her hand in both of his. She only nodded, not trusting her voice.

If Rose felt sad to leave the Flying Dutchman, it was nothing compared to Elizabeth. For a long time she and Will were just holding each other close, and even after she had gone ashore the two lovers’ gazes were locked until the ship began to dive. Captain Turner waved one last time before the ship disappeared under the surface. It was heartbreaking to witness and Rose felt new tears trickle as she considered the unfairness of it all.

Elizabeth remained on the pier a long time afterwards, and Rose delicately turned her back to allow the other woman some privacy. Jack meanwhile rummaged around aboard the fishing boat, muttering to himself. 

She went to join him. “So, now that you have a boat, what do you need to summon the sea goddess?” she asked.

“Rum.”

“I asked what you needed for the summoning, not what you wanted to drink.”

“That’s what we need.” He shrugged. “Lots of rum, and some other things.” 

“What things?” Elizabeth had come back to join them, looking composed now, her jaw determinedly set. Only a slight redness of her eyes betrayed her previous emotions. “If you’re coming along on this quest I’ll not have you toying with us, hiding things, tricking us. Spill it out.”

“Ouch.” Jack acted hurt. “I liked you better before you became king.”

“You’re a king?” Rose stared at the other woman. 

“King of the Pirates’ Brethren Court, yes. It’s a long story.” She smiled stiffly and turned back to Sparrow. “Well? I’m waiting.” She had crossed her arms and even tapped her foot. Elizabeth seemed to be an imposing woman, she was unlike anyone Rose had met before. Even Molly Brown, the unladylike widow she had made friends with on the Titanic, had not been anywhere near this formidable.

“A pig,” Jack muttered sourly. “A black one, mind you. Won’t work if it’s pink, savvy?”

“That’s it? A black pig?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“A black pig, drenched in rum, burnt and stabbed with a silver sword. Also, we must do it in a lagoon so Calypso can’t escape. There. Happy now?” 

“Where do we find all that?”

“Tortuga.” He smirked. “Everything can be found in Tortuga. You ladies coming aboard, or?”

“I have to pack my things. And  _ you _ will take a bath before I share a boat with you. You stink,  _ savvy _ ?” She turned with a swirl of her dress and went back to the cottage.

Jack gave Rose a sad smile. “See how bossy she’s become? That’s what marriage does to a woman. She used to be such a sweet girl, but then she burned all my rum and married the whelp.” He tried to swallow some of the mentioned beverage, but now his bottle was empty. “Why is the rum gone?” 

“You should probably take that bath.”

He gave her a calculating look and his lips quirked up rather naughtily. “Aye. I probably should.” His dark eyes trapped hers as he deliberately slowly began to unbutton his vest and slipped it over his shoulders. Rose knew she ought to look away but his gaze was nearly hypnotic in its intensity. 

His fingers moved on to his shirt, popping up one button, and another, revealing a smooth, brown chest. 

“Enjoying the view?” He was grinning now, flashing his gold tooth as the shirt fell down on the boat deck. 

That broke the spell and Rose quickly turned away. “Wash your clothes before you put them on again,” she quipped, trying to sound as bold as Elizabeth. She heard him chuckle to himself, and then a splash as he dived into the water. 

When Elizabeth returned with a large seabag, Jack had finished cleaning himself and sat wringing out his unkempt tresses wearing only a pair of knee-length pants. His shirt, vest and socks hung on the railing to dry.

“Really? Those are all the clothes you got?” 

“My change of clothes are in my sea-chest, in my cabin, onboard my ship. Which right now is suffering at the hands of a certain bilge rat called Hector Barbossa.”

“The first thing we do in Tortuga is clothes shopping.”

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

Between themselves, Jack and Elizabeth soon had the Barnacle going at a steady pace towards the infamous pirate town, her sails billowing at an angle from the starboard wind. Their familiarity made it clear the two went way back, and they worked well together despite their constant bantering. 

Since Elizabeth seemed not to mind the undressed state of the pirate, Rose was determined not to either. At least he smelled better now, salty water and sun warmed skin instead of sweat and stale alcohol. And she had to admit the sight of his strong arms and broad shoulders were none too unpleasant, at that. She could get used to it.

Soon Rose’s chest and face were beginning to sting painfully from the sun, and she found herself a spot in the shadow to sit. Her skin felt burning hot to the touch. Again she wished she had had a hat like the other two, even if those triangular headpieces were rather ridiculous. 

Jack gave her a critical look in passing. “Ouch. You look like a boiled crab.” He turned to Elizabeth behind the steering wheel. “I’ll take over that, the girl needs seeing to.” 

Elizabeth reluctantly handed over the wheel. “Don’t break her.”

He stroked the smooth wood tenderly, trailing one of the spokes with his fingertips. “I’m always gentle with the ladies. She’s safe with me.” His voice was a seductive purr.

“You’re disgusting.” She shook her head and disappeared into the narrow space below deck. 

Jack chuckled and turned his gaze to Rose. “She used to like me, you know. We had a thing going on.”

“Did not!” Elizabeth’s reply was slightly muffled.

“Did too. You even kissed me.”

“Well, that I did.” She returned up carrying a small chest and sat down next to Rose. Inside were bandages and some glass bottles containing medical looking liquids. She opened one and poured oil in her hand, carefully rubbing it on Rose’s burned skin. It felt nice.

“Aren’t you gonna relate what you did after kissing me?” 

“Afterwards I chained you to your ship and left you to be devoured by the Kraken,” she said remorsefully.

“What?” Rose stared at her. “He’s dead too?”

“Aye,” said Jack.

“We went to Davy Jones’ Locker and fetched him back,” Elizabeth explained. 

Rose’s head hurt again. This place, this world was so confusing. She would not have believed any of it, had she not been dead herself.

“Look at that, so white!” Elizabeth had slid down Rose’s dress a little over her shoulder to reach better with the oil. There was a razor-sharp edge between her flaming red chest and the pale part that had been protected by the dress. “I used to have a complexion like that once, too.” She sighed wistfully. 

“But your skin is beautiful,” Rose protested. Elizabeth looked exotic and healthy with her tan, and it suited her dark brown eyes so well. 

“Thank you.” She smiled. Rose smiled too, again immensely thankful to have the other with her. She had never had many friends and Elizabeth was easy to like.

The Barnacle was a single-masted cutter, small enough to sail all the way into the Tortuga harbor. Rose still felt raw from her sunburn and volunteered to stay and guard the boat while the other two went to buy clothes for Jack and ask around for black pigs and silver swords. 

The sun was beginning to set but it was still hot and very humid. Rose rested her back against the mast. It felt so good to sit down a little, just rest and not think. Her eyes soon became heavy.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

“Lookie what we have here.” The leering voice made Rose’s eyes pop open. A face was close before her, belonging to a bearded man with pale blue eyes and a hideous breath. “Hello poppet. Taking a little nap, are we?” 

Rose looked around, her heart beating quickly. It had become darker, but Jack and Elizabeth were still not back. She was alone with this man, this stranger who clearly had no good intentions.

“Get off my boat,” she said. Her voice sounded frail and thin. 

The stranger’s smile widened. “I don’t think so. I like it here.” He reached out to touch Rose’s hair but she evaded him.

“My friends will be back any moment. They are pirates.”

“In Tortuga everyone’s a pirate, poppet. I ain’t afraid of nobody.” 

Rose tried to back away but he caught her arm in a vise-like grip. His fingernails dug deep into her flesh when she tried to wrench herself free. 

“No fuss!” He pulled an ugly-looking pistol. “See this here?” He waved it and she flinched, fearing he might accidentally pull the trigger. “This darling can make your brains blow out of your ear faster than it takes me to say ‘undress’.” He loosened his grip of her arm and began to fondle it. “So soft… so tender.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. She did not dare to pull away, not with a pistol aimed at her head. Bile rose in her throat. Where were Jack and Elizabeth? 

“Please, let me go,” she begged. “I have money.” 

“I shan’t hurt you, love. Just relax.” He lifted the hem of her dress, revealing her bare thigh. “Ah… white like a lily, quite the English lady. That’s why I love redheads so much.”

“I’m not English.”

“I don’t care. Now shush.” He was breathing fast, his dirty fingers trailing up her leg. 

“Let go of her!” called a high-pitched voice.

They both turned their heads towards the speaker. It was the little boy Rose had met that morning, the one who had guarded her dinghy. 

“Go away Tom, this is nothing you wanna see.” He pointed his pistol at him. To Rose’s dismay the boy promptly obeyed, running away along the jetty.

The man smirked and turned his attention back to Rose. “Now, where was I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love cliffhangers, sorry! *hides*
> 
> Calypso from the Pirates movies is thought to be based on a Haitian folklore spirit called Èrzulie Dantòr. When I made up the summoning items for this story, I was inspired by Èrzulie’s favorite sacrifice; black pigs and rum. All according to Wikipedia, which must be a very good source, considering how fond my students are of it. ;)


	5. Finding a Farmer

The man moved closer to Rose, bundling up the skirt of her dress and her slip, pulling them higher and stroking her thigh roughly. 

This could not happen, it was not right! She looked around in desperation, was there nobody who could help? But there were not many nearby at this hour, and even if she could manage to get the attention of the few sailors she saw on other boats she was not sure it would help. What if they decided to side with her captor?

Her mind was working busily. She thought of kneeing him in his groin, but then he would likely shoot her, and that was also why she could not just run away or jump overboard. Could she manage to take the gun from him? No, that would probably end with her being shot as well.

“Lovely.” He was touching her drawers.

She had to try the knee. Gathering her courage, Rose had almost raised her leg to proceed with the attack when she caught sight of three people running silently up the jetty; the little boy, Elizabeth and Jack Sparrow. She had never seen a more welcome sight in her life. 

The man must not discover them, if he knew aid was on the way he might shoot them – or her, for that matter. She must distract him somehow.

“Oh… yes…” she murmured in what she hoped was a seductive voice. She licked her lips. The man’s eyes were drawn to them.

“You like that, don’t you, poppet.” He moved in to kiss her and she met him, desperately trying not to make a disgusted sound as she tasted the foul chewing tobacco in his mouth. His rough beard scratched her chin and his lips were brutally hard, nearly smoldering her.

She pretended to stroke his shoulder and trailed her fingers slowly down his arm, the one holding the gun. She could not keep up the pretense of liking the kiss much longer, she feared she would throw up any moment and it was hard to breathe with his tongue nearly down her throat.

The others had arrived, but as they stepped into the boat it tilted slightly and began to rock. The pirate instantly turned towards them, moving his gun their way. Rose grabbed his arm and heaved down with all her might. Before he could shake her off, Elizabeth had her dagger pointing at his gut and Jack his sword against his throat.

“Back off, bilge rat,” Elizabeth hissed. “And drop that pistol.”

The man looked from Elizabeth to Jack and back again, assessing the situation. Then Rose felt his arm relax and the gun fell to the deck with a dull thud. Jack quickly kicked it out of range.

“All right, all right, can’t a man have some fun? She liked it. Didn’t you, poppet?”

Rose glared at him, trying to think of a suitably cutting reply. Then she remembered something.  _ Harkle up… get some body to it…  _

“Well, mister, here is my answer to that.” She harkled, chewed, and spit him right in the eye.

Jack looked impressed. “You spit like a man, miss Dawson!”

She smiled at him, trying to hide the sudden weakness in her legs and the tremor in her hands. 

“I’m fairly sure that means no,” said Elizabeth. “Now, leave this boat before I accidentally poke a hole in your belly.”

The thug obeyed, but Rose did not like the dark look he gave them before walking away on the jetty. Would he return to finish what he started? Perhaps bringing his friends?

That thought had Rose’s legs buckle and she was about to stumble when Elizabeth caught her. 

“So sorry about that, miss Dawson,” she said sympathetically. “We never should have left you alone.”

“Please, call me Rose. And I’m fine, really, nothing happened.” But she was not fine. She could still feel the vile taste of the man’s mouth, and her skin felt tainted where he had touched it.

“I can guard the boat next time,” said the boy. Rose had completely forgotten about him. She pulled up the purse Bill had given her and counted out ten silver coins, closing the boy’s small hand around them. He gaped like he could not quite believe what he saw.

“Thank you for running after help… Tom, was it? You were very brave, Tom.”

“Thank you miss!” The boy grinned broadly. 

“Take that home now before someone robs you,” Rose advised. She did not trust this town anymore.

The boy trotted off and Rose again tucked her purse into her corset. Too late she remembered Bill’s warning not to show Jack Sparrow she had that money, and glancing at him she noticed he was observing her bosom with a calculating look. She needed to find another hiding place.

Seeing as Rose was safe, Elizabeth and Jack began to unpack their purchases. There was a distinct lack of black pigs and silver swords among those.

“I got the address to a pig farmer,” said Elizabeth. “As for the sword, we looked everywhere with no success, but we learned there is a trader who sells all sorts of odd weapons. Unfortunately he was in Havana doing business right now and they did not expect him back for another week or two, so we might have to wait for his return.”

“But we bought rum.” Jack smirked and pointed at a donkey cart laden with crates slowly approaching their boat.

“Jack claims he needs ten boxes for the sacrifice to summon Calypso.” Elizabeth looked like she doubted the truth of that, and Rose did too. 

The pirate proved their suspicion right when the first thing he did after the cart had been unloaded was to crack a crate open, uncork one of the bottles inside and drink nearly a quarter of it.

Elizabeth shook her head at him and went back to unpacking the clothes she had bought, pressing a large bundle in his arms.

“I have clothes for you as well,” she said to Rose.

“Really? How sweet of you to think of me!”

“Don’t mention it. I hope they fit, I had to guess the size, but I think you and I are almost the same height.”

Elizabeth had chosen two dresses and two sets of male clothes. The latter, she explained, were completely unsuitable for women to be seen wearing, but she herself prefered them when working on the boat and she had figured Rose might as well. There were also two changes of underwear and a pair of knee-high boots similar to those she and Jack wore. Best of all, Elizabeth had bought her a straw hat, a flat, wide one decorated with silk flowers.

Rose went below deck to change directly, still feeling dirty after what she had experienced. She chose one of the dresses and put it on with some struggle. She missed her maid!

The dress was long and made of blue cotton with a white floral pattern and long lace cuffs. It looked a little silly with a row of tiny ribbon bows and lace all the way down the front, but that was the fashion here, and at least it fit her well even though she felt slightly exposed with the low cut front.

She liked the boots, which were black with big brass buckles. They were a bit too large because they were made for men, but endlessly better than stumbling around in her pumps. 

Donning the hat, she returned to the others. To her surprise they had moved some way out in the bay while she was busy.

”I figured you would feel safer tonight if we anchored away from the town,” said Elizabeth. Rose gave her a grateful smile, the other woman was proving to be both thoughtful and kind.

While Jack busied himself with emptying his bottle, Elizabeth prepared an evening meal consisting of a dark, fresh bread, cold meat and cheese that she had bought in Tortuga earlier. There were no vegetables in sight, and the meat was too salty for Rose’s taste, but she ate heartily anyway. The smell of food had made her realize she had not eaten anything since her meager breakfast aboard the Dutchman, and she was ravenous. Elizabeth poured a generous amount of port wine for her, nobody drank water in this time, it would seem. Since she was very thirsty Rose had several glasses, and soon Jack was not the only one who swayed on his feet.

“Can’t you tell me about how you became king?” Rose swallowed her last piece of bread.

Elizabeth readily agreed, starting with how she had inherited one of the pieces of eight needed to be counted as a pirate lord, and then thanks to Jack won the vote among the Brethren to become their king. That led to their release of Calypso and the war against the East India Trading Company, during which she married Will in the middle of the fight. Soon after, he died and was resurrected as Captain of the Flying Dutchman. Since then they had only met once – twice, if she counted her brief visit to the Dutchman earlier that day. 

“This is such a sad story,” sniffed Rose and hugged Elizabeth. Alcohol tended to make her sentimental.

“It is,” agreed the other, hugging her tightly back. 

“Why don’t we have a group hug?” suggested Jack and moved closer, bringing a cloud of rum vapour with him. Rose and Elizabeth gave him a stern look each and he wisely retreated, hugging his bottle instead.

“Be that way then,” he grumbled.

The rest of the evening Rose and Elizabeth spent talking pleasantly. Elizabeth told of her growing up in Port Royal as the governor’s daughter, and Rose shared her own life story, complete with her horrible engagement to Caledon Hockley and the Titanic disaster. She left out everything concerning her romance with Jack Dawson, however. That was still too fresh, she did not have the energy to talk about him yet.

Jack Sparrow meanwhile kept mostly silent and to himself, but it was clear he listened, and Rose often felt his eyes on her. The longer the evening went, the harder she found it to ignore him. Was he interested in her? Or thinking about how he could best steal her diamond and her money?

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

For the second time in a few hours, Rose woke up finding a man leaning over her. She stared dizzily up into a pair of black eyes, illuminated by a lantern. She tensed as she felt him touching her cleavage.

“Mr Sparrow! How  _ dare _ you,” she hissed, glancing to her left where Elizabeth still slept soundly, anxious to wake the other. 

Jack’s hand darted away. At least he had the decency to look guilty.

“Explain yourself,” she demanded. 

“I was just…” He broke off, obviously at loss for a suitable lie. 

“Were you trying to feel me up while I slept and couldn’t protest? Disgusting. You’re no better than that scumbag before.”

“Not at all.” The corner of his lips turned up slightly. “I prefer my women awake.” He climbed back into his hammock, stretching out languidly. “I would not deprive you of being  _ aware _ , should I ever benefit you with the pleasure of my touch.” That half-smile and his suggestive undertones gave Rose a funny feeling in her stomach. Perhaps it was the foreign food or all the wine, for surely she could not feel anything for this drunkard pirate? So soon after  _ her _ Jack’s death too. Impossible. She smothered all inappropriate thoughts of pleasurable touching.

“What were you doing then?” she asked.

“Making sure the valuables were kept safe. The diamond. And that purse. I’m armed and you’re not – I should be the one guarding them, savvy?”

“I’d say they are safer with me.” He probably would spend every penny on rum, and the Heart as well. She  _ knew _ she should have hidden them somewhere else, but with all the drinking and talking she had forgotten. 

“If you say so.” He shrugged and extinguished the lantern, leaving them in pitch darkness again. 

Rose frowned to herself, his casual tone had not fooled her. She really must find a new hiding place.

Soon the pirate’s breathing became even, but Rose found it much harder to fall back asleep now that the effects of the alcohol had worn off. The area under deck was cramped, the air hot and stale, and even though her rope hammock was cosy to lie in she felt like she might fall off it whenever the boat rolled.

In addition, she worried about her future. The prospect of going to the afterlife once they had summoned Calypso did not sit well with her, but she also worried about staying in this world where she did not belong, and where pirates took any liberties with her just because she was a woman. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

Rose must have dozed off eventually, because suddenly daylight was streaming down through the open hatch and seagulls cried somewhere nearby. She felt stiff after sleeping with her clothes on, and all the salty food and port wine yesterday had given her a nasty headache. Oh, how she missed water. And coffee! 

Since she was alone below deck, Rose quickly changed into the comfortable menswear Elizabeth had provided. It felt wonderful to finally take off her corset, even though she wondered how she would ever get it back on when she wanted to wear a dress again. How did Elizabeth do it? Or were the eighteenth century corsets easier to lace?

Since her boots were a little too big, Rose cleverly hid the Heart of the Ocean in the toe of one of them and her purse in the other, before she went up on deck to join the others. 

It felt a little odd to wear trousers in front of a man, but Jack was either used to it or pretended not to care. 

Breakfast consisted of the same fare as yesterday, and Rose felt slightly sick just by the smell of the ruby liquid that Elizabeth again poured her, but once she had downed a glass she felt a little better. 

Jack had only rum for breakfast. How did he manage to stay so fit, on such an unhealthy diet? 

After eating and drinking her fill, Rose desperately needed to pee, which was impossible to manage privately on such a small boat. There was no bathroom, obviously, instead Elizabeth had shown her how she could sit on the railing and pee, covering herself with her dress. That had been alright yesterday in the protection of darkness, but now in bright daylight? With other ships nearby too, and Jack…? There was no avoiding it however, and thankfully Jack was tactful enough to turn his back once he saw what she was about to do.

Today they were going to visit the pig farmer Elizabeth had found out about. He lived on the other side of the bay, and sailing there did not take long. This time all three of them went ashore, leaving the Barnacle to fend for herself, the risk that someone would steal her was not very big this far from the city. 

Finding the farm was easy, they just had to follow the smell. It would have been neat, quaint even, if not for the muddy pens full of black pigs and piglets. A stable and an outhouse were built at an angle from a red cottage with pink geraniums in the windows. Outside were flower beds, apple trees and a well tended kitchen garden. A plump man with long, graying sideburns was bent over the latter, pulling out weeds.

As they came near he rose with a groan, touching his back, but as he turned towards them a wide grin cleaved his homely face.

“Mother’s love, if it isn’t Jack! And Elizabeth!”

“Pig farming, really?” Jack shook his head in feigned sadness. “I would have thought better of you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems the farmer is familiar… who could he be? A bottle of rum to the first one to guess!
> 
> If you’re curious about Rose’s dresses and what male clothes looked like back then, you can google “18th century fashion”. The boots she hid her treasures in look like those worn by Puss in Boots. :)
> 
> Thanks for kudos and comments! All feedback is welcome.


	6. Partying in Tortuga

“So, how did you end up a pig farmer, Gibbs?” asked Elizabeth. They were seated around a neat table covered with a checkered cloth, drinking coffee. Rose felt like she was in heaven. Actual black, sweet coffee! Who would have thought it?

Gibbs placed a plate of home baked cookies in front of them.

“Well, I tried trade and piracy, as you know, but those were just not for me I felt. And seeing as I got along well with pigs and they with me, as it were, I figured why not try a secluded country life?”

“How do you like it then?”

“Well… honestly…” He moved closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “...it’s boring as hell.”

When the cookies were eaten and Rose well into her second cup of heavenly coffee, Jack filled their host in on their mission and why they needed one of his pigs. When he came to the part about the Heart of the Ocean, the farmer sat bolt upright.

“Mary, mother of God!” He crossed himself, just like the barman in Tortuga had. “Oh you’ve stepped into some deep crap, miss Dawson, pardon my language.”

Rose’s stomach plummeted at his reaction. She was already apprehensive about summoning Calypso, this certainly did not help.

“Why does she want the diamond so badly?” she asked.

“Ah, that’s an interesting story.” Gibbs took on a dramatic storyteller voice as he continued. “You see, Calypso is a passionate being, and often walks upon this earth like a mortal woman, seducing men and women alike, taking them to her bed.” For some reason he glanced at Jack here, but the pirate was busily scraping out dirt from under his fingernails. “Now, one day she took a man named Davy Jones as her lover, but this time her feelings grew into more than mere desire. As much as Calypso is capable of loving someone, she did love Jones, and even struck a deal with him to prolong his life. He was to be cap’n of the Flying Dutchman, and every ten years he would get to come ashore and spend a day with her.” 

Rose blinked. So, Will was not its first captain then. Was this Davy Jones his predecessor? That would explain why he seemed so new to the job. 

Gibbs continued his tale: “Now, when the ten years had passed and Jones went ashore to meet Calypso, she was not there – for she was with another lover. Heartbroken and angry, Jones told the Pirate Lords how they could trap Calypso in her human form and rule the seven seas undisturbed. But afterwards he regretted his betrayal and carved out his own heart, placing it in a box far away so he would never feel the pain of his loss again.”

“He did _what_?” Rose stared at him, flabbergasted. “And he survived it?”

“Aye, onboard the Dutchman no time passes, the crew can never die and never grow old.”

That would have sounded like a fairytale, had Rose not seen the new captain, and now she remembered the hideous scar across his chest. Had he also…? Feeling faint and slightly sick, Rose looked at Elizabeth and saw the pain in the other’s eyes.

“Being heartless, Jones became cruel and inhuman, abandoning his duty to the dead souls. Now, as Calypso learned this and realized Jones could not love her anymore, her own heart became cold and hard until finally it turned into stone – a sparkling diamond.”

“The Heart of the Ocean…” Rose breathed.

“Aye, the Heart of the Ocean.”

“But how did she lose it?”

“Her heart of stone chafed and grated, causing her terrible agony, so just like Jones she took it out, pulling it from her chest with her magic. She kept it close to her at all times, hoping that if Jones came back to her it would thaw and return into flesh. But one morning it was gone – stolen by one of her lovers.”

“He must have sold it,” Rose pondered. “My fiancé bought it in England, and he thought it had been in France first, owned by the king.”

“Aye, in two hundred years it would have passed through many hands. But it was not until the Heart touched the sea again, that Calypso could pull it back to her – dragging you along with it.”

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

Twenty-something pairs of eyes were expectantly looking at them through the wooden bars of the pig pen, their feet and backs covered with varying amounts of mud. One of them poked its grey snout through, emitting cute snoring-like sounds. 

“This place smells even worse than you did when we met,” Rose remarked to Jack.

“Which one do you want?” asked Gibbs.

“That one,” Rose decided, pointing at the projecting snout.

“Fine choice. Fat and well fed, he is. You can cut him into pork chops after the summoning is done.” He slid a rope halter around the creature’s stocky neck. When he tried to pull it out through the gate it squealed in terror.

“No, wait, don’t frighten him.” Rose took a handful of corn from a feed bucket and patiently coaxed the pig to come out on its own volition. Gibbs closed the pen behind it.

“Waste of time.” Jack looked amused.

“I happen to have a soft spot for innocent animals.” The pig allowed her to touch it now and she scratched it under one of its big, floppy ears. Its bristly fur was rough, but not unpleasant to touch.

“I say, that pig needs a bath,” said Jack, prodding it with the toe of his boot.

“Since when did you start caring about hygiene?” Elizabeth asked incredulously.

“Since I was about to share a small boat with a pig.” 

Rose gladly washed the animal, earning herself happy grunts and huffs, and then it was time to return to the Barnacle. 

When they left the quaint farm, Gibbs watched them go with a look of longing on his weathered features.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

“No, _you_ guard the boat and _we_ go sword shopping.” Elizabeth’s hands were on her hips and her voice was stern. Rose said nothing, she was happy as long as she did not have to be alone in this city. 

“It’s me who got the item that can direct us to the sword, if there is one.” Jack Sparrow, as always, seemed unmoved by her temper. He was idly watching an old, battered compass, its needle spinning slowly.

“Why is it still spinning then? You just don’t know what you want.” 

Jack gave her a dark look and sneered. “It probably spins because there _are_ no silver swords in Tortuga until that trader returns from Havana. But sure, go if you want, have fun.” He leisurely leaned back against the mast and closed his eyes.

Walking the Tortuga streets arm in arm with Elizabeth proved to be fun, despite the crowd and ever present smell of rubbish, sewage and alcohol. She had an ability to turn her eyes into scorching daggers, and in addition a quick, biting tongue, both of which she had honed to perfection when she was a pirate captain prior to her marriage. Rose felt completely safe in her company.

“You must teach me that look,” she said when Elizabeth had scared away a particularly obnoxious drunk. 

“It’s easy. You just stare at them and imagine their pants on fire, and their private parts cut off. Somehow they sense that’s what you’re thinking. You should try it too!”

Rose giggled at the mental images. 

When they walked into the first weapon shop, the shabby salesman looked at them like they were stupid.

“A sword of _silver_?” His voice teemed with contempt. “Trust a woman to want somethin’ so useless. It’s too soft. Won’t hold an edge.”

“Never mind.” Elizabeth gave him her dagger stare and the man visibly cowed.

After they left the tenth shop with the same lack of result, Rose was sick and tired of shopping and Elizabeth seemed to agree.

“We’ll have to wait for the Havana man then, even though I hate it when Jack’s right about something. Let’s go to the marketplace instead and buy some nice food,” she suggested. 

The marketplace was located in the center of the city and looked nothing like its equivalents in America. Together with common chickens and goats crowded exotic birds, monkeys and other animals Rose did not know the name of, and in the food stalls there were an abundance of oddly shaped fruits, vegetables and fish.

A bright green parrot drew her attention and she reached out to touch its long, beautiful tail.

“Dontbuyme,” it cried and bit her finger almost hard enough to draw blood.

“Good luck getting that sold,” she remarked to the vendor.

“It will probably be easier than selling his brother.” He shrugged.

“Shutupshutup,” agreed another parrot. “Bloodybirdshutup.”

The two women had soon filled their basket with fruit and cornbread, and since there was no stove aboard the Barnacle they also bought some already prepared food; a small basket filled to the brim with a steaming dish of rice and red beans, and two grilled chickens wrapped in banana leaves.

“This smells heavenly!” Rose inhaled the spicy fumes.

“Indeed. I say… let’s have a party tonight!”

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

The food was amazing, and as the evening proceeded Rose found rum to be an acquired taste – for every sip the amber liquor grew on her. It had felt gross to share a bottle with the others first but she soon stopped caring. 

“I need to pee,” Elizabeth announced as she rose on slightly wobbly legs.

“Too much information.” Jack made a face that had Rose laugh. 

“At least she doesn’t do it on the floor like Mr Pig.” She unsteadily leaned over Jack to scratch the animal’s chubby neck. 

“Mr Pig is the worst name.” 

“Make up another then.” She half fell on him when the pig decided to walk away after Elizabeth.

“I shall call him Hector,” he decided. “Can you move out of my lap? You’re blocking the rum.” 

“Hector? Yeah, that works for me.” She grabbed his arm to steady herself and sat back up. A couple of tattoos on the inside of his wrist drew her attention.

“Why is it a swallow and not a sparrow?” She touched a faded picture of a sunset over the sea with a flying swallow against the sun. 

“That’s an old one. Got it after I had sailed five thousand miles. It’s tradit’nal.” He surreptitiously slid his other arm around her waist. Rose moved a fraction closer, while a sensible voice in her head told her to get the heck away from this man, who was a _pirate_ if she had forgotten. She smothered the voice and let her finger move to a thick P that was etched into his skin. He shuddered slightly at her touch. 

“What’s that then?” 

“‘Twas made by a branding iron. Hurt like… a bad word I shall not subject your sens’tive ears to. Means ‘m a pirate.” He stroked her back and his hand felt searing hot too.

 _There, I told you. A pirate!_ said the sensible voice.

_Shut up and bugger off._

“Who did it?” She traced the red edge of the branded letter.

“The East India Trading Company. They had this thing ‘gainst pirates, dunno why.”

A thud and a muffled cry from the stern had Rose sit up straighter and snatch her fingers from Jack’s arm. Elizabeth returned into the circle of lamplight and flopped heavily down at Rose’s other side, closely followed by the pig which pushed its wrinkled snout against her hand in search of something edible.

“Damn Mr Pig nearly had me trip and fall off the boat.”

“He’s Hector now,” said Jack. He was still caressing Rose’s back but she hoped Elizabeth could not see. That would be beyond embarrassing, she knew what the other thought of the pirate.

“Hector?” Elizabeth began to laugh, nearly choking with mirth. Jack was grinning too. He had an enchanting smile, really. And the way those dark eyes caught the lamplight… 

His gaze met hers and Rose looked away before she would do something stupid. “What’s so funny about Hector?” 

“That’s the name of Jack’s worst enemy. Hector Barbossa.”

“He who stole my ship, remember?” His hand ceased its movements. 

Rose took the bottle from him and swallowed a mouthful. “I’ll tell him to return it. Liz taught me how to glare daggers, that oughta teach him. Plus I can handle an ax.” She turned to Elizabeth. “I hope it’s alright I call you Liz?” 

“Sure. And if you practice the glare real well, I’m certain that Barbossa will be inclined to acquiesce to your request,” said Elizabeth, grinning.

Jack chuckled and inched himself a little closer to Rose under the pretense of taking back the rum, his fingers innocently brushing against hers. She swallowed. 

_Pirate_ , reminded the voice. 

_Shush._

Elizabeth took the bottle from him and tried to drink. “The rum is gone,” she remarked, turning it over.

“Then maybe it’s _bed_ time now,” said Jack, emphasizing the first part of the word. Rose’s cheeks heated at his inviting undertone and she glanced at him. He was looking directly at her, again making her think of lions and gazelles. His fingers trailed down to her hip.

“Yes, I think it is.” Her voice was slightly hoarse.

“I’m sleeping out tonight,” said Jack, glancing at the starry sky. “It’s less hot here.”

“Good idea,” said Elizabeth. “Let’s all sleep outside.”

Jack frowned at that and Rose bit her lip to hold back a giggle. He clearly had hoped to get rid of Elizabeth, but Rose did not mind her presence. A little flirting was one thing, she was not ready to go to bed with Jack. _Yet_ , said another voice, one that was not at all sensible.

They fetched a couple of old blankets from below and spread them on the wooden boards of the deck. Rose stretched out between the other two and the pig rolled itself up at their feet.

The night was warm as always in this part of the world, and out here in the bay there were no mosquitoes. Lying on her back, watching the stars with a slightly unfocused gaze, Rose felt strangely disconnected from all her worries and troubles. It was enough to just _be_ , enjoying the fuzzy tipsy feeling and a full stomach, wondering if Jack intended to make any advances tonight and secretly hoping he would. 

She could think about how to solve the death and afterlife issues another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up… Is Rose being unwise? What are Jack’s intentions? Let me know your thoughts. :)
> 
> That a heart of stone would chafe is something I learned from ‘Mio, my Son’ by Astrid Lindgren, a famous and beloved Swedish children’s book writer (who also wrote ‘Pippi Longstocking’, ‘Ronia the Robber's Daughter’, ‘Emil of Lönneberga’ and many, many other stories). 


	7. Bad Guys on the Barnacle

A faint splashing made Rose slowly open her eyes. Her head pounded and she had a horrible taste in her mouth. She could not recall falling asleep, but since she just had woken up supposedly she must have. 

What had splashed? A fish maybe? It was still rather dark, but the sky had a rosy hue. Sunrise was not far off.

She felt a warm form beside her. Jack. He had nestled close, either in his sleep or before. She had meant to let him scandalize her – only a little, of course, a kiss or two perhaps – but then sleep had caught her instead. Maybe that was for the better. Now when she was sober she realized how stupid it would be to get herself involved in that sort of thing under the circumstances. It would only be awkward afterwards. 

Another splash sounded, a bit closer now. It reminded her of something, but her head hurt too much to think. Had they invented aspirin in the eighteenth century? She was fairly certain they had not.

When she heard the sound a third time she finally realized what it was; rowing strokes. 

She touched Jack’s arm, shaking him slightly. Placing a finger over his mouth, she whispered: “Someone’s coming.”

His eyes popped open and he sat upright, looking alert and sharp, peering around in the twilight. If he was hungover he hid it well. 

Before he had time to react further, the boat rocked as someone began to climb onboard. Jack was on his feet in a second, brusquely kicking Elizabeth in passing. “Up!” he yelled, and ran to the starboard side where a man just came over the railing, a long sword between his teeth. 

Jack had drawn his own sword and soon Rose heard repeated clangs and clashes from their intense fencing. Another man was coming after the first one, but Elizabeth went for him, meeting his sword with practiced ease. 

Rose felt very useless and backed away to the boat’s port side, but that proved a bad idea as three men climbed up from another dinghy. How many were these people? 

One of them caught Rose with ease, unarmed as she was, twisting her arms behind her back. She screamed in shock and pain.

“Hello poppet. Missed me?” he purred in her ear. It was the sailor who tried to molest her before! Clearly the others were his friends. Had he come back to finish what he began? 

She tried to wring herself free, but the man was much too strong and drew his gun again. 

“Stop fussing.”

Meanwhile, his companions crossed the deck to attack Jack and Elizabeth. Thankfully Jack had managed to push his first opponent overboard and could take on the new foe, but that relief did not last long. Rose’s captor swiftly tied her arms together behind her back and went to join his friends, making Jack and Elizabeth outnumbered by two. 

The deck had become a jumble of people and swords, fighting all over the place, ducking back and forth under the boom of the mast. Every so often someone bumped into Rose or stumbled over Hector. The air was filled with sounds; the clang of steel against steel, the pig’s shrill squeals of pain and fright, grunts of effort from the combatants and the odd growled curse.

Just as Elizabeth struck the sword from her foe’s hand and kicked him hard in the groin, Jack’s first defeated man clambered back aboard, soaking wet and very angry, joining the ruckus with a murderous growl. Jack and Elizabeth had to fight two opponents each again, and Elizabeth was hard-pressed, they had driven her all the way to the stern and she was bleeding from a nick on her ear.

Would they lose? Surely they could not be defeated by these ruffians! Or? 

Rose could not do anything but wait and watch, for even if she had not been bound she was no fighter. She had never felt more helpless before.

It was clear Jack was the better fencer of the men, again he pushed one opponent overboard – who happened to be the man that had tied Rose up – and sliced the other’s leg so badly he became immobilized. Jack jumped to Elizabeth’s aid and engaged one of her antagonists while she disarmed the other with a swift underhand strike. He drew a long dagger instead and continued his assault, but with her sword she had the better reach and it was clear she gained on him.

Things were beginning to look brighter and Rose held her breath anxiously. Then she felt the Barnacle rock as yet another man climbed aboard from a new dinghy, and her stomach plummeted. Not  _ more  _ enemies just when they were winning! 

The new man turned towards her with a grin and then she recognized him. It was Gibbs! What was he doing here? But it did not matter, they certainly could use his help.

Gibbs quickly joined Elizabeth, coming at her attacker from behind and surprising him enough to beat the dagger out of his hand. It sailed over the railing in a wide arc and disappeared under the water with a definite splash. The now unarmed man slowly raised his hands in surrender.

Only one enemy was still fighting, but Jack was driving him before his sword with an almost unnatural ease. The man was sweating profusely, defending himself with ever more desperate strikes. 

“Go! Go Jack!” Rose cheered, not able to keep silent. 

As the combatants came her way, Elizabeth almost daintily stuck her leg out, tripping the villain so he fell headlong onto the deck. 

“Yield.” She pointed her sword at the man’s neck.

Rose was just going to cheer at their victory when she felt a wet arm pull her back and the cold metal of a pistol touch her temple. Her captor had climbed back up! She had forgotten about him.

“Drop your weapons or the poppet gets a head shorter,” he growled. 

“I don’t think so.” Jack had drawn a gun of his own. “Unlike yours, this baby has not taken a bath.” He grinned.

The man seemed to realize the truth of that and put down his useless weapon, but instead of yielding he pulled Rose in front of him, using her as a human shield. He climbed the railing, forcefully dragging Rose along, and jumped down on the dinghy below. She hit the wooden vessel hard, pain searing through her bound arms.

Jack leaned over the railing above them.

“Jump Rose!” he called, pointing at the surrounding water. She stared at him and then quickly scampered overboard. The man grasped her skirt to stop her, but when she kept going the fabric ripped and she was free. 

Just before she disappeared below the cool surface Rose heard a loud bang. Had the man’s pistol worked after all? Then came a howl of pain and relief filled her, it was her captor who had been shot, not her. 

Thankfully Rose still wore the men’s clothes Elizabeth had bought her. With her legs unencumbered by a dress she quickly soared to the surface, but staying afloat with hands tied behind her back was difficult. She struggled with all her might, desperate not to drown a second time. 

Jack elegantly dived into the water, popping up next to her. She gratefully let him tow her back to the Barnacle where Gibbs helped her up. 

As Gibbs untied Rose, Elizabeth and Jack gathered the intruders and put them back into their dinghies. Jack bestowed them with many elaborate and inventive threats about what would happen to certain body parts of theirs if he ever saw their ugly faces again. 

It was a sorry group that rowed away. Two were relatively unharmed but had lost their weapons, the third had a profusely bleeding ankle where Jack had partly damaged his hamstring and the fourth was clutching his crotch, still whimpering in pain from Elizabeth’s stout boot. The fifth, he who had caught Rose, was in the worst shape. He had been leaning out from the dinghy to grab her when Jack shot him squarely in the buttocks. He would probably survive, but as Jack put it, it would be some time before he ever went after a lady again.

“A million dollar wound,” said Gibbs, chuckling. “Well shot, Jack.”

Rose could not hold back a spiteful grin at the other’s predicament, but then she felt a twinge of worry.

“Won’t they come back?”

“I doubt it. I think they realized we were more than they could handle.” Elizabeth looked smug.

“You were brilliant, Liz,” said Rose admiringly. “The way you fenced with two men like that!”

“Hrmph.” Jack frowned.

“You were not too bad either.” She grinned at his hurt expression. “Alright, you were pretty amazing. Thanks for the advice, I think I was too shocked to think properly, I would never have thought of jumping out.” She impulsively gave him a wet hug, which he awkwardly returned.

“So, why are you here Gibbs?” asked Elizabeth.

“I figured I was tired of farming, so I sold my house and the rest of the pigs. Your adventure sounded more interesting.”

“This calls for a celebration.” Jack had somehow managed to find a rum bottle in the disorganized clutter after the fight. “Welcome to the quest, Mr Gibbs!”

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

It was the fifth day spent anchored in Tortuga Bay and the company lay splayed out in various bored poses on deck. They had been asking around every day for the weapon trader but to no avail, he was expected back soon but nobody could say for sure when it would be.

“I can’t stand another night cramped onboard,” Elizabeth complained. “This boat was not built for four people.”

“Are there no hotels in Tortuga?” asked Rose.

“What’s a hotel?” she replied.

“A place where you can hire rooms for the night.”

“I know a place where you can hire rooms for the night.” Jack grinned smugly.

“Not  _ that _ kind of place.”

“I think you mean an inn,” Gibbs suggested. “And I know of a nice, clean one, where you’ll get yourself a warm meal too.” There was longing in his voice.

“I have money, I can pay for the stay,” said Rose.

“We can’t leave the boat.” Elizabeth sighed.

“You can guard the boat and we go sleep in the inn,” Jack suggested. “That solves your issue with crowding, savvy? Will be nice and quiet for you without us.”

“Why should I stay?  _ You  _ can guard the boat,” she bit back.

“Now, now, don’t fight. Let’s draw straws about it,” said Gibbs.

Thankfully the others decided Rose did not have to partake, as she would not be able to defend the boat anyway. The other three drew a straw each.

“Blast it.” Gibbs looked at the short piece of wood in his hand with dismay.

“That settles it then. Gibbs stays, we go.” Jack chuckled. He moved his fingers subtly, almost like he was hiding something in his sleeve. It would not surprise Rose if he had cheated.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

They had to walk quite a while to get to the inn. It was located in a finer area of the town, built on the slope of one of the densely forested hills that surrounded Tortuga. The smell was less prominent here and the streets were dryer and cleaner. 

Inside, a stout woman with dark brown skin, greying curls and an enormous bosom welcomed them. Rose paid for two rooms, one for her and Elizabeth and one for Jack. The woman showed the way upstairs, walking nimbly despite her ample size. 

“If you want company tonight I shall be next door,” Jack murmured in Rose’s ear, but before she could frown at him and give a caustic reply he had disappeared behind his door. Scoundrel!

The room was simple with a wide bed and a small table, but really did look clean, just like Gibbs had said. Best of all, there was a wooden bathtub that could be prepared for an extra fee.

“An actual bath! Oh how I missed those!” Rose readily counted out the money, and paid for one for Jack too. “Tell the man next door I recommended he make use of it because he stinks again,” she said smugly. 

It took an hour for the inn maids to heat water and fill the bath, but the bliss of finally sinking into it was well worth the wait. To have actual soap, and warm water, and wash her hair! Rose had not realized how much she had missed hygiene.

She could have stayed in that bath forever, but knew she could not make Elizabeth wait needlessly, she had been kind enough as it was to let Rose begin. But it was not without regret she gave it over to the other.

After bathing they changed into finer clothes to dinner, helping each other with the corsets and making their hair. It almost felt like Elizabeth was her older sister. 

When they were ready to go down, merry music spilled out from the inn’s main room. It reminded Rose of the kind of Irish pub music the third class passengers had danced to on the Titanic. She had enjoyed herself so much that evening; watching the boys’ arm wrestling, dancing with Jack, trying to speak with Olaf who only knew Swedish and drinking lots of cheap beer. 

Rose and Elizabeth chose a small table near the musicians and were soon joined by Jack. To Rose’s surprise it looked like he had taken that bath she suggested, and even changed into a clean shirt under his vest – an actual white one! 

The inn lady served them some sort of spicy stew which looked like she had gone down to the beach and gathered all the sea creatures she could find and boiled them together, but strangely enough it tasted amazing. They all hungrily cleaned their plates and wiped the last of the gravy with cornbread.

As for drinks Jack preferred rum as usual and Elizabth drank port wine, but to Rose’s immense pleasure they also served a lovely dark ale. She emptied two pints in quick succession.

“Ey, Liz!” Rose had to lean close to Elizabeth to make herself heard in the cheery music. “You know, last time I was at a party like this I learned a funny dance. It was great.”

“Show me.” Elizabeth took her hand and pulled her up to an empty spot between the tables. 

“No, Liz… not here!” 

“Come on. I wanna see!” 

“Well, you kind of improvise the steps. Like this.” She took off her shoes – she wore the pumps again tonight – and quickly moved her bare feet in beat with the music. The men at the nearby tables cheered encouragingly and Elizabeth clapped her hands.

“I love it! Let me try.” She made a series of steps on her own. “I agree, this was fun!”

Rose hooked her arm in Elizabeth’s and they began to spin, laughing until their stomachs’ hurt. 

Jack was watching them with an amused smile on his lips. 

“Come, join us.” Rose took his hand and pulled him up. Soon the three of them were busy improvising steps and that seemed to get the rest of the inn’s clientele moving too. Tables were pushed against the walls to make room for the impromptu dance party and the musicians played like there was no tomorrow.

An empty spot formed in the middle where people showed off their skills. A young sailor with a wooden leg procured much cheer when he tap-danced with it, and Rose could not resist her barefoot standing-on-toe-tips trick. It hurt like crazy but the others’ awe and applauds made it worthwhile. Then Jack, not wishing to be outdone, made a series of one-handed backflips, but due to the large amounts of rum he had consumed he crashed into the audience in the process. That only had them laughing, and several others tried to do similar stunts.

Things soon became rather chaotic. 

“I think it’s bedtime now,” Elizabeth decided and Rose heartily agreed. Leaving Jack with his newfound friends, they unsteadily walked up the stairs, supporting each other. Below, the music and laughters continued, and probably would do so well into the night.

Rose was glad to get out of her uncomfortable dress and corset and crawl down into the bed with Elizabeth. Again it felt like sharing bed with a big sister, cosy and safe. 

The improvised party tonight had made her very tired but in a good way. Rose realized she had felt happy for the first time since she died. Elizabeth on the other hand seemed a bit downcast.

“This is nice. I hate sleeping alone.” Her voice was bitter. Rose understood and felt a sharp pang of sympathy.

“It must be awful. Ten years alone…”

“It is. I don’t… I don’t know how to manage it, really. First I was just happy he had survived that gruesome stab, but now...“ She sniffed and Rose hugged her close. 

“Is there no way to free him?”

“I don’t think so, the Dutchman must have a captain.”

Rose pondered the problem while softly stroking Elizabeth’s back over her chemise. There was something… something someone had said, not long ago. Then she remembered.

“Didn’t Gibbs say it was Calypso who started the whole Dutchman business? By striking a deal with Davy Jones?”

“Yes… You mean…?”

“If we return her Heart, she will be happy, right? Maybe we could strike a deal of our own. I could ask her to let me stay alive, and you could free your husband.”

Elizabeth hugged Rose almost painfully hard. “That’s brilliant! Well, awfully risky too, bargaining with a sea goddess, but who cares! If it works it will be worth anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ladies have a plan! Will it work, do you think?
> 
> By the way, I stole that ‘shot in the buttocks’ and calling it ’a million dollar wound’ from another movie hehe. Anyone who can guess which one?


	8. Drowned Sailor

It took another two weeks before the elusive trader finally returned to Tortuga. In the end, Rose and the others decided to take turns staying at the inn or aboard the Barnacle, either the men or the women – that way they only needed to rent one room, and with just two people aboard, the fishing boat did not feel crowded. 

When they at last met him, the trader turned out to be a very short, wiry Spaniard, sporting a huge moustache. To their disappointment he had no more silver swords than anyone else. 

“Silver is too soft for swords, señor Sparrow.” He shook his head like the other was daft. 

“Spare me the lecture,” growled Jack. “You got it or no?”

“No.”

“Damn.”

Meanwhile, Rose curiously examined the trader’s shop. It was crammed with interesting objects; jewelry and trinkets of all sizes and colors, teeth that looked like shark teeth (but some seemed suspiciously human too) and skeleton parts that Rose hoped came from animals. On a row of glass shelves were an assortment of bottles with hand scribbled labels, containing ordinary spices like cinnamon, black pepper and ground ginger, but also bizarre stuff such as crocodile dung, bull testicles, powdered mummy, virgin’s blood, leopard spots, ladybug wings, dried mouse droppings, the ninth life of a curious cat, colloidal silver, pregnant women’s urine, stuck noses and beetle peels. 

Jack leaned over Rose’s shoulder to pick up a bottle. “What are bull testicles for?” he asked the trader.

“An aphrodisiac, señor. Makes your first mate stand at attention for hours. Want to buy?”

“Nah. Got no need for that, when I’m done, the ladies usually are too worn out to have the energy for another round.” 

Rose felt her cheeks heat up and went to a shelf further away, feigning great interest in a porcelain shepherdess with a chipped hat while she tried hard not to picture being worn out in bed by Jack Sparrow.

“You’re disgusting,” said Elizabeth.

“And you’re jealous.”

“Am not!” She scowled at him. “The only complaint I have with my man is I can’t be with him for another ten years.”

“Look at this,” interrupted Gibbs from a wooden crate in a dusty corner. “Silver ingots!”

“You’re getting old, Gibbs, your memory’s failing. It’s a silver _sword_ we need, savvy?” 

“No, but _you_ don’t think clearly, Jack. We can bring these to a smith and have him forge us a sword!”

“Brilliant!” Elizabeth beamed at him. 

They purchased the silver bars with gold from Rose’s purse – which was becoming alarmingly light – and left the shop with a new purpose.

There were not many honest craftsmen in Tortuga, whose denizens mostly were either pirates, common thiefs, gamblers or dealers of stolen goods, and to their dismay they soon found out that the only blacksmith had been killed in a brawl over a prostitute last month.

“I know another blacksmith,” said Elizabeth.

“You just want an excuse to be with your sweetheart again.” Jack smirked. 

“So what, if I do? We have the silver, he can make us a sword. A fine one, at that.”

Since nobody had a better plan the others agreed to try Elizabeth’s idea. They returned to the Barnacle with their silver, and while sharing a simple lunch of hardtack and fish soup they discussed how to proceed. 

“We need to restock our drink supply before we go search for the whelp. Sorry, blacksmith.” Jack fished out a piece of hardtack from his cup of rum and put it into his mouth. Hardtack, or ship biscuits as they were also called, were a long lasting waybread and a very common fare aboard. The brick hard squares were nearly impossible to chew without dunking them in liquid.

“Where to go, though? Finding Captain Turner will be no easy thing,” said Gibbs. “The Flying Dutchman spends all of its time underwater, and only ever surfaces when she’s collecting a newly drowned sailor.”

“That’s simple then. All we need is for someone to drown.” Jack looked around. “Any volunteers?” 

“Not me, I tried it once and did not much like it,” said Rose.

“Same, actually.” Jack glanced at Elizabeth. 

“You didn’t drown,” she protested.

“I did. In the burning water of the Kraken’s belly.” His face was unreadable. Rose felt a pang of sympathy, drowning in cold sea water had been bad enough, she could not even begin to imagine what being dissolved in gastric acid would be like. 

“Maybe we could find someone else drowning,” Gibbs suggested. “Ships are sinking all the time from pirate attacks or bad weather or running aground on reefs. When it happens somewhere close, we can let Jack’s compass lead us there.”

“More waiting?” Jack grumbled. “This is taking far too long already.”

“You don’t actually have to stay,” said Elizabeth. “I know how to summon Calypso now, and Gibbs can help me sail the Barnacle.”

“Nah, I’ll come.” He fidgeted with his last piece of hardtack. “I’m not all that busy.”

Rose regarded him thoughtfully. There was something he held back, some private reason he had for coming – she had suspected as much ever since he agreed to help. But what was it? If he had wanted to steal the Heart there had been many opportunities the past weeks. No, it must be something else. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

When they sailed out of Tortuga Bay with the boat’s hold full of supplies and rum barrels, Gibbs explained to Rose how Jack’s strange compass worked.

“You see, this be no ordinary compass that just points north,” he said dramatically, entering his storyteller mode. ”It’s enchanted to lead the one holding it to that which he desires the most.”

“We should not have brought all that rum then,” said Rose sardonically.

“Or attractive women.” Jack winked at her. 

“Actually, it’s frightfully bad luck to bring women aboard, regardless of their looks,” said Gibbs.

Rose rolled her eyes and left the men, finding a seat in the prow together with Hector. She scratched his bristly neck. “Sometimes I feel surrounded by pigs,” she muttered into one of his floppy ears.

They soon had left the island far behind and steered into open water. To be able to get to the drowning sailor in time – whenever there would be one – they needed to go a bit north of Tortuga where there was more traffic.

The journey was an uneventful voyage before they reached one of the popular trade routes. They anchored near an uninhabited island, and then all they had to do was wait.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

Laying anchored really was no fun at all. It was crowded, it was boring, the pig dirtied the deck and in general everybody just got on everybody’s nerves. It did not help that someone always had to be watching the compass, and though they took turns, it still was extremely tedious to stare for hours at end at a spinning needle.

The fare got a lot more dull too, since they could not buy anything fresh.

“I am _so_ sick of this sawdust-bread,” Rose complained after the first week, looking at the brown square in her hand. Even soaking it in rum did nothing for its taste or structure. 

“You’re such a spoiled princess,” Jack muttered.

“I happen to be of fine family, you oaf.” 

”Rude.”

She then gave him the scorching glare Elizabeth had taught her, the one where you pictured the other’s underwear on fire. Imagining Jack with burning pants turned out to be amusing. He could be quite the drama queen, and if something like that happened to him he would probably hop around yelling before making an elegant dive into the sea. The comic images had her smile, which of course totally ruined her glare.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

It took another tedious week before the waiting was finally over. The weather had been rough for two days, with a heavy wind making the Barnacle toss and turn in the waves, and Rose had at last overcome her seasickness and managed to fall asleep when Elizabeth cried out in excitement.

“The needle, it stopped spinning! A ship is sinking!” 

An instant flurry of activity commenced. They weighed the anchor and set sails in record time, and were soon racing in the direction the compass pointed, climbing crests and falling into troughs in a bouncy roller-coaster ride. Rose felt sick again and lost the last of her hardtack meal over the railing. 

It took almost an hour until they saw their goal at a distance. The ship was easy to spot despite the darkness and cloudy weather as it was burning heavily, and over the howling of the wind they heard faint cries. It was a large three-master, two of which were entirely engulfed in flames.

“Pirate attack,” hollered Gibbs. “But them who did it seem to have left already, thank goodness.”

Rose clutched the railing, staring at the horrible scene they rapidly approached, and suddenly the reality of it struck her with full force. This was no adventure, no exciting quest to find the Dutchman. Actual human beings were fighting for their lives on that ship, and it would sink just like the Titanic had, and the sailors would drown just like she had. It was not right _._

She grabbed the person closest, which happened to be Jack. “We can’t do this!” she yelled to make herself heard.

“What?” He stared at her like she had lost her mind.

“We can’t let them die! We can’t just watch them drown!”

He turned his gaze from her face to the ship, where they could now make out individual faces of the panicking men running around, shouting to each other in a foreign language. Some of them were desperately trying to reach a dinghy, but it was tied to the side of the ship and large flames erupted between the men and the small boat.

“Damn. Damn your bloody conscience. Damn _my_ bloody conscience.” Still pouring out curses, one nastier than the other, Jack pulled off his vest, boots, gun and sword, pressing them into Rose's arms. “Hold my effects.” He climbed the railing and dived into the murky waves in a smooth motion, swimming towards the sinking ship with strong strokes. 

“What’s he _doing_?” cried Elizabeth, who had just managed to haul the sails and turn the Barnacle. They were bobbing on the waves a hundred feet or so from the burning wreck.

“He’s saving them.“ Rose dropped Jack’s belongings on the deck and grabbed Elizabeth’s arms earnestly. “We have to help him!” 

Understanding dawned in the other’s eyes. “Yes. Yes, of course.” She frowned. “Much as I want to find the Dutchman, this way is wrong. What were we thinking?” She ran back to the boat’s stern where they had been towing Gibb’s dinghy along with them, calling out to him in passing. “Take the wheel, hold her close but not too close. We don’t want to catch that fire.” 

Elizabeth and Rose climbed down into the smaller vessel, the former grabbing the oars. The wind gave them speed, coming at the dinghy from behind. The ocean was wild and large around them and to Rose their boat felt ridiculously small and weak. Water splashed over its sides with every wave and soon their feet were inches deep in water.

“Is it safe to continue in this storm?” she yelled. 

“Storm?” Elizabeth laughed wildly. “This is barely more than a breeze. Wait until you’ve been in a _real_ storm, fighting pirates and cursed sailors while being nearly sucked into a whirlpool.”

Feeling somewhat reassured, Rose turned to watch the burning ship. Jack had reached it now, he had climbed up and was struggling to cut loose their tied up dinghy with his knife. The ship was sinking rapidly and very soon the dinghy no longer hung above the surface, but floated at an awkward angle, still tied to the ship on one side. 

The distressed sailors huddled together near the aft where the deck still was intact. Elizabeth steered the dinghy their way, and was shortly after joined by Jack who had finally managed to release the other one. With a thud the two dinghies connected with the hull of the larger ship and Rose reached out to grab it, keeping them steady. 

The men poured down to them in quick succession, and the dinghies became a chaotic mess of flailing arms and legs. 

“Calm down! One at a time!” Elizabeth yelled, but they did not listen. In their panic they were nearly fighting each other to get over the railing, and then one lost his grip and fell into the water. He sank below the surface without a sound.

Jack did not hesitate, with another of his elegant dives he went after the afflicted man. It did not take long before he popped up again, towing the other flailing and spluttering back to the dinghy. With joint effort, Rose and one of the sailors hauled the man to safety.

She was just reaching out for Jack, when a hideous creaking made her look up to see the burning mainmast come falling down over them. Rose threw herself backwards just in time, the huge object missed her head with merely inches to go. It hit the water beside the dinghy with a splash and a hissing cloud of steam as the fire extinguished. The resulting ripples caused the small vessel to roll so violently it nearly threw off its many passengers.

“Jack!” called Rose, scanning the dark waves, but the steam obscured her vision. Had he been hit by the mast? “Jack!”

Suddenly she saw something red. It was the scarf he wore tied around his hair! The rest of him was floating face-down below the surface. 

Rose clumsily jumped into the water, again immensely thankful for her pants as she began to swim. The waves felt much larger when she was in the middle of them, and they kept crashing squarely into her face. For the first time she got really frightened for her own life. This was too horribly familiar, a twisted déjà vu, complete with a nearby sinking ship and a man named Jack gone under.

She fought to reach the red scarf, but the waves kept pushing her back. It had not been far but felt like it took forever to get close. 

Then she was there at last, grasping Jack’s limp body and pulling it up. To her immense relief the dinghy had come after her, or she might have drowned there with him, every ounce of energy spent. Now strong hands helped her and Jack back aboard where she fell in a heap, gulping air. 

The boat rocked as someone manned the oars and began to take them back to the Barnacle. Rose hardly noticed it. As soon as she had caught her breath, she focused on the prone body splayed out on the deck. 

Jack’s face was still, peaceful almost, like he was sleeping. Swallowing a terrified sob, Rose fell on her knees beside him. There was no movement at all, no raising and sinking of his chest, and when she laid her palm on the soft skin over his heart she felt nothing.

Then the sailors screamed in terror, gawking at something behind Rose. A large form had emerged from the deep; a dark ship with seaweed covered sails.

The Flying Dutchman had arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short note today only: Have a nice weekend, kthxbye! *waves and runs*
> 
> PS. The movie I mentioned in the last chapter was Forrest Gump. :)


	9. Press and Relax

Rose did not lose any time. Jack had drowned and it was her fault, _she_ had insisted they save the sailors, but she would not let him die. The Captain of the Dutchman must _not_ take him. There were ways to deal with drowned persons, she could do this!

First she must turn him belly down. While fighting to roll over the heavy body, Rose tried to recall more in detail the pamphlet she had received from the beach patrol in Atlantic City last year, when she and her mother had visited relatives there. There had been pictures of the lungs and heart, with descriptions of how it all worked and how breathing could be restored with the Prone-Pressure Method of Artificial Breathing. Always curious and interested to learn new things, Rose had memorized the simple steps. 

“Move back!” she yelled over her shoulder. “Give me space!”

But to her surprise all the sailors had gone – she was not even in the small dinghy anymore, this was another boat, the deck was larger and had a different color. Here there were only her, Jack – and Captain Turner. And his crew, who had lined up behind him, respectfully holding their hats in their hands.

“You can’t take him.” She moved to straddle Jack’s thighs. “He’s not dead yet.”

“His heart has stopped,” said Turner.

But Rose did not listen. She placed her hands flat on Jack’s back under his shirt, her thumbs meeting at his spine and her fingers spread out like eagle wings over his lower ribs. Then she moved her body forward and pressed down, using her own weight to give momentum to the action. A gush of water flowed out of his mouth, and she leaned back, relaxing the pressure to allow air to be sucked back into the now empty lung. Then she repeated it; press down – relax – press down – relax. Soon she had a good rhythm, this was easy! No more water came out, but still she saw no sign of breathing. 

“Miss Dawson… This is pointless.” The captain spoke in a sensible voice.

“Shush. You’re distracting me. Go to the Barnacle, your wife wishes to see you about sword forging.”

Press down – relax – press down – relax.

“Forging?” He sounded surprised, but thankfully he did what she asked and left. Good. She hated having an audience when she was busy.

Press down – relax. Why would Jack not move? He had not been down many minutes, how could he be so far gone in such a short time? She wanted to shake him, tell him to stop pretending. Press down – relax. Press down – relax. Just when she was beginning to like him, too. Even though he was dead (but he wasn’t! Not yet!), he looked beautiful. He had such a finely chiseled face, almost aristocratic with that straight nose and jawline. Press down – relax. Press down – relax. The thick bump on his forehead disfigured it slightly though, the falling mast must have struck him. Was that why he had drowned? Was he unconscious because of the hit? She wished there was a doctor around to tell. 

Press down – relax. Press down – relax. 

Her arms felt like jelly. How long was one supposed to do this? The pamphlet had just said to keep it up until the person breathed on their own again. As if it were that simple. 

Press down – relax. Press down – relax. Press down – relax. 

What had he used on his eyelids to make them look so black? Whatever it was apparently did not smudge in water. Press down – relax. Maybe she could ask him for makeup advice when he woke up. Press down – relax. Press down – relax. For he _would_ wake up.

“Shall I take over for a while?” 

Rose nearly lost her rhythm before she recognized the voice. “Bill! I’m glad you’re here.” She pressed down and relaxed. “Yes, please do. I’m exhausted.”

As Bill bent over the body and took over, Rose tiredly slumped down beside Jack’s head. There was rose-tinted foam around his lips and she wiped it off with her sleeve. 

“Wake up,” she said. “You can do it.” She stroked his wet hair behind his ear, noticing how hot his skin felt. “He’s warm. He wouldn’t be if he was dead, would he?”

“Don’t ask me, I ain’t the captain,” panted Bill. 

Rose lay her palm on Jack’s forehead to check for a fever, and nearly jumped when he gasped, drawing a short breath. 

“He’s breathing! Stop pressing.” She waved to Bill, her gaze intent on Jack’s face. No movement. “Resume! He’s stopped again.” She bit her lip in concentration as she tried to find a pulse. Beneath her fingertip his jugular throbbed quickly, like the heart of a small animal. “His heart beats! No don’t stop. Don’t stop, he’s still not breathing, but his heart is working, he’s not dead!”

Remembering the last part of the life-saving instruction, Rose began to rub Jack’s limbs, trying to massage his blood back towards the heart. He drew in air again, and new pink bubbles appeared on his blue lips. She wiped those off too, while Bill stilled his motion. Jack’s eyes popped open and he drew more breaths, short, panicked gasps, and his hand came up to clasp Rose’s arm painfully.

“It’s okay, you are safe now,” she soothed, trying to loosen his fingers. A bruise was already forming. 

Still gasping for air, Jack scrambled onto his feet, his eyes wide and frightened. Then he leaned over the railing and threw up, more pink froth and yellow bile. Slowly his breathing calmed, but he kept dry heaving a long while.

Rising from the railing, he unsteadily turned to Rose.

“Horribl’,” he croaked accusingly. “Dun’ make me drown ag’n.”

Her eyes filled with happy tears. “Ungrateful bastard.” She threw her arms around him but at his groan of pain she quickly backed off. 

“Oh, sorry. You may have broken a few ribs… it’s a side effect of artificial breathing.”

“Violent woman.” His voice was still not more than a hoarse whisper, but his lips had quirked up slightly and he actually did look grateful.

“Well, seeing as he’s not dead anymore, I’d better take you two back to that fishing boat,” decided Bill. 

Just like that, they found themselves aboard a much smaller vessel crowded with foreign sailors, and against its mast, Captain Turner and Elizabeth were clinging on one another like grapevines.

They reluctantly came apart upon noticing the new arrivals, and Turner raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Jack? But… Your heart had stopped.”

“I started it again,” said Rose proudly. “With modern science.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but I’m really glad to see you, Jack,” said Elizabeth and moved to hug him.

“Don’t!” Rose stopped her. “His ribs are cracked. I think he needs to rest below deck.”

“Stop fussing,” croaked Jack with a scowl at her, and beckoned impatiently to the crate where they kept the silver. “Forging. Tell’im.”

“Oh. Right.” Elizabeth quickly explained to her husband how they had struggled to find a silver sword, and how they now needed his help to make one.

“One can’t forge swords aboard a ship, and as you know, I can’t go ashore.” He threw out his hands.

“I know, but we planned to forge it on the shore. You could stand in the water and do it.”

“Complicated, but I guess it might work…” He sounded hesitant. “But do you have blacksmith tools? A hammer, an anvil, tongs, chisels? And a forge oven?”

“Well, we did not know exactly what you needed... we thought we could buy it.”

“I don’t have time for that.” He looked pained. “You know I can’t linger.”

“I know…” Her shoulders slumped. 

“Why don’t we get all the tools, and then we meet up somewhere?” Gibbs suggested. He was standing behind the wheel, keeping the Barnacle still. The wind had calmed but the waves were still high. “Let’s say, in two weeks time, on a suitable island.”

Will Turner nodded. “Works for me.”

“Great!” Elizabeth pulled him in for an enthusiastic kiss just to show how pleased she was.

When she finally released him, he described in detail what he needed for the forging, and then they decided on an island they all knew of. Apparently Elizabeth and Jack had been marooned there on a previous occasion.

“Of course it must be that one,” Jack rasped. He was busily drinking his fill from a dark bottle. How come he always found rum, no matter how grave the situation?

The two unlucky lovers said their farewells, a little less drawn out than last time since they would meet again relatively soon, and then Captain Turner disappeared along with his bleak ship.

“What shall we do with them?” Gibbs indicated the bedraggled sailors who huddled together in the stern.

“Let’s drop them off at the nearest port,” Elizabeth decided. “We can’t communicate with them anyway, better get rid of them as soon as possible.”

Rose meanwhile turned her focus back to Jack. He was slumping, supporting himself heavily against the railing, and his forehead had become moist with sweat. 

“You really must lie down,” she insisted, and this time he did not protest. She led him below deck and helped him stretch out in his rope hammock, still clutching his bottle protectively.

His face was flushed and when she felt his cheek it was burning hot. Her worry returned. She had thought he would be safe once he started breathing, but now she was not so sure anymore. 

“I will try to cool you off. If it’s alright I’m fussing.”

“By all means, fuss,” he murmured, closing his eyes. His voice sounded less hoarse now, at least that was an improvement.

Rose fetched a bucket of sea water and soaked a cloth, placing it over his forehead. 

“I thought you said _not_ to fuss,” she said, unbuttoning his shirt and folding it up. Talking nonsense made her think less about how concerned she was.

“There was no time then – there is now.” His lips twitched. “I’m not the kind of noble fellow who would rather die than be coddled with.”

“You like being coddled? Actually, that doesn’t surprise me at all.” She soaked another two cloths and placed one in each of his armpits. “Feeling cooler?”

“A little.”

“After I’ve gone through all this trouble to save you, you’d better survive.”

“I will.” He sounded so certain she almost got convinced. Perhaps he would. Was he not the famous Captain Jack Sparrow?

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

“I’m dying,” groaned Jack. “Gimme more rum, there’s a good girl.”

“You had almost the entire bottle, you’re not getting more tonight. Get back to sleep.” 

“You want me to die. You hate me. They all hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” Rose tiredly rubbed her forehead. 

“Then give me rum.” He coughed weakly.

“Just shush!” 

It was the third sleepless night and Jack was really beginning to get on her nerves. Soon after his near-drowning he had caught pneumonia, and had been feverish ever since. The two of them were now alone below deck, nobody else wanted to hear his whining so the others slept outside. He simply was a horrible patient and Rose hated being his designated nurse.

She had just drifted back to sleep when he started again.

“Roose… Roose,” he moaned. 

“What now?!” 

“Need to pee… Get me the bucket.”

“You were right,” she growled. “I _do_ hate you.” 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

Thankfully Jack steadily got better, and after another couple of days of driving Rose to the verge of madness, he was finally on his feet again, looking no worse for wear except for his still tender ribs. 

“Give me the rum.” Jack was laying back on the deck, resting his head on his hands. They had returned to Tortuga yesterday, and today Elizabeth and Gibbs had gone to buy the blacksmith items while Rose and Jack guarded the boat.

“Fetch it yourself. I’m tired of being your beck and call.” She was leaning against the railing beside his outstretched body, her eyes closed against the evening sun.

“I’m still very weak, you know,” he complained.

“Then do without the rum. You drink too much anyway.”

“I know.”

The concession surprised Rose, she had expected him to object and keep nagging her to bring the bottle. She turned her head to look at him and found his eyes were on her. 

“Thank you for saving my life.” He reached out and pressed her hand, looking absolutely serious for the first time since she had met him. 

“Well, that came out of nowhere.” She stared at him in disbelief. Then, collecting herself, she added: “Don’t mention it. You shot that pirate for me before, and saved those foreign sailors – it’s what good people do.”

“I’m not good.” He withdrew his hand. “But you are right. Guess this makes us square.” His usual sardonic smile had returned.

Rose sighed, closing her eyes again. She wished Jack would show more of his real self, if that was what she had just glimpsed. She was heartily tired of his drunk-and-ridiculos act. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

The clang of metal against metal rang over the barren beach, where a rather strange scene unfolded. A square brick oven had been built on raised stones in the shallow water, and next to it, Gibbs worked the bellows to make the fire inside burn hot enough while Captain Turner busily hammered out a piece of flat silver on an anvil.

Turner had removed his shirt in the heat, or maybe it was to impress his wife; despite his recent change of occupation he had a blacksmith’s arm muscles and Rose found herself enjoying the view as well. 

“Come,” came Jack’s voice from behind her.

“Why?” Rose did not turn her gaze away.

“I need your help to carry something important.”

Sighing theatrically Rose stood and followed the pirate. “Make it quick then, I want to see him finishing the sword. It was interesting to watch.”

“I bet it was.” Jack gave her a knowing look, mingled with… annoyance? Was he jealous? Somehow Rose found that highly amusing.

“If you strip, I can watch you too,” she offered.

He gave her another look that she could not quite interpret, but said nothing. 

They walked towards the center of the small island where a cluster of burned palms showed evidence of an old fire. Near the black trunks, Jack counted the steps to a certain point and began to scoop away sand until he uncovered a trapdoor. Rose helped him open it and peered down. When she saw what it was, she groaned.

“Rum! You brought me here to carry rum. Bastard.”

He gave her a toothy grin. “It’s for the summoning. It _is_ important.”

“So, I guess we soon got all we need,” said Rose as she carried the last crate of bottles up the ladder and placed it in Jack’s waiting hands. “Feeling ready to summon her? I’m thinking it must be rather scary.” Even more so for herself, who would be sent to the afterlife in the process.

“No, I’m not ready.” Jack sat down next to the crates, catching his breath after their labor.

“No?”

“I got something to do first.” He glanced at her. “And I need you to come with me.”

“Explain.” She sat beside him, burying her fingers in the warm sand.

“It’s something I always do this time of year. Finding the sword has taken too long so now I must do this other thing first, it can’t wait.” He picked up a rum bottle and looked at his distorted reflection in its dark glass. 

“Well, like Liz says, you don’t have to come to the summoning. It will probably be sad and boring anyway, what with me dying and all that.” But when she said it, she realized she _wanted_ him to come. Despite the fact that he would probably be there for the wrong reasons, with some hidden agenda, she did not want to part with him yet.

“Do you want to die?” He was still peering into the bottle, adjusting his mustache and rubbing at some imagined smudge on his cheek. 

She looked at him. Was he being serious again? He had appeared less like his usual eccentric persona ever since he recovered from the fever. 

“Well, eventually, I do,” she said. “But someone once told me I would die an old lady in my bed, so I had kind of hoped I would stay around a bit longer.” With a pang of grief and not a little bad conscience Rose realized just how long it had been since she had thought about _her_ Jack. 

Jack Sparrow opened the rum bottle and swallowed a few mouthfuls before passing it to her. As she declined, he took another swig. He looked gloomy. Was it because of her impending death? His character was so impossible to read, one moment he would be a demanding, selfish, full-of-himself pirate, but at other times he appeared to be a decent man who cared about his friends. Who actually _had_ friends.

“Why do you want me to come with you on this errand?” she asked.

“So I can get you into my bed.” His lips quirked up impishly.

“Be serious!” She gave his shoulder a shove.

“Serious is boring.” He shrugged, and took another long pull of rum. “And I _do_ want you in my bed. Admit the thought has crossed your mind too.” 

“I am admitting no such thing.” She turned her face away in case it would betray her. Damn the man! 

He chuckled. “Still in denial, huh?” Then he was silent for a while. When he spoke again he sounded earnest. “I want you to come with me, because you must be present when we do the summoning – and I don’t want them to do it without me, because I need to speak with Calypso. Savvy?”

“Speak about what?”

He sighed. “It’s about my ship, if you must know.”

“The Black Pearl?”

“Aye. I want her back.”

“And you think Calypso would be so grateful for the Heart, that she would help you?”

“She might.” 

Rose peered closely at him. She still had a feeling he did not say everything, but maybe she was overanalyzing. For Jack to help them on the prospect of recovering his boat seemed likely, and the plan might have worked too, if the necklace had not already been designated for other purposes. 

She wiggled her toes in her too large boot and felt the Heart of the Ocean, still safe in its hiding place, while pondering whether to tell him this. She decided it was only fair – after all, he had been honest with her for once, and she ought to return the courtesy. 

“Elizabeth and I are going to use the Heart to negotiate for her husband’s life. To free him of the curse.”

“You what?” He stared at her incredulously. “That’s ridiculous. Wasting the power of the necklace on that! The Dutchman must have a captain, it won’t work.”

“It’s their only chance.”

Jack jumped to his feet and began to pace to and fro angrily. “Calypso hates being ordered about, you will only annoy her. Stupid plan.”

She tried to calm him. “You want your ship, I get that. But isn’t their happiness important too?”

Jack did not reply. Still scowling, he collected the rum crates and stomped back to the others. 

Sighing, Rose picked up the rest of the rum and followed him. He was clearly overreacting. To reclaim a stolen boat must be so much easier than lifting a curse, and it could probably be done in so many other ways. It was _he_ that wanted to waste the necklace’s power, not she.

Back at the beach, Captain Turner had nearly finished making the silver sword and was sharpening it with a whetstone in quick, practiced motions. It was beautiful. Long as his arm and unbelievably smooth, gleaming dazzlingly from the handle to its narrow tip.

He held it out to Elizabeth. “There, it’s the best I can do under the circumstances.”

“It’s perfect!” She wrapped her arms around him, stroking his still bare back with her free hand. 

“I must go now.” Reluctantly he released her. 

“Before you go… I have been meaning to tell you something.” She beckoned for everyone else to move farther away, and then pulled down her husband’s head to whisper in his ear. 

“You sure?” His eyes had gone wide and a boyish smile played on his lips.

“Positive.” Her face was almost glowing with happiness. 

Rose had a strong suspicion as to the nature of the news. Seeing the couple before her now, sharing another long, passionate kiss, her determination to help them increased tenfold. She and Elizabeth _would_ free Will Turner, and Jack and his stupid Pearl could go screw themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The method Rose uses to save Jack – the Prone-pressure method – is not to be recommended. It was what they did in her time (early 1900), but today the most effective way to save a person with no heartbeat is rescue breaths combined with chest compressions (30 compressions - 2 rescue breaths - repeat). 
> 
> The Prone-pressure method probably did save lives though, as it forced water out of the lung and air into it, and the heart was compressed slightly, helping the blood circulate the oxygen and increasing the chance it started beating again. But since this method is not nearly as effective as the modern one, survival was low back then (and even now, survival rates of drowned victims are only around 7% if the heart has stopped, and complications such as pneumonia and hyperthermia (overheating) are common). 
> 
> However, as we all know, Jack Sparrow is one very lucky bastard. Of course he is of the few percent who would survive such an ordeal! ;)


	10. Saving a Sea Turtle

Gibbs came to stand next to Rose by the railing, where she had been gazing at the waves, thinking about nothing much. Sailing could be very relaxing, carthagic even.

“Have you decided whether to go with Jack yet?” asked the old sailor.

“No... How can I decide when I don’t know what he’s going to do? I don’t like the secrecy.”

“Jack is a man of many mysteries,” said Gibbs dramatically. Lowering his voice, he continued: “I have a hunch of what it’s about, though.” 

“Tell me.”

“Well, you see, Jack leaves on this unknown errand twice a year. He never seems to look forward to it, and afterwards he drinks for days at an end.”

“No news, Jack always drinks a lot.”

“Not like this, nowhere near _this_ . Anyway, adding up those clues, I’m thinking this biannual appointment is with...,” he looked about him to make sure nobody was nearby, “...his _mother_. You have to admit it makes sense.”

“That would depend on what his mother is like, but I suppose it does.” Rose tried to imagine a female version of Jack Sparrow and failed. “Who is his father?”

“His father’s a famous pirate and buccaneer. Edward Teague, or Blackbeard as some call him. I don’t think the two are very close.”

“Blackbeard… that actually sounds familiar. I think I read about him in my time.”

“Don’t tell that to Jack. He would hate it if his father’s name made it into the history books but not his.” Gibbs grinned.

“So, you think he wants me to meet his mother?” she asked after a while.

“Aye. Aye I do. And that’s an honor indeed. As far as I know he never brought anyone else there. He likes you.” Gibbs winked.

Rose could not hold back a pleased smile at that. 

“I think I’ll go with him,” she decided.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

Jack and Rose were dropped off on an empty looking strip of beach, surrounded by jungle. In ten days the Barnacle would pick them up again, and in the meantime the others would search for a suitable uninhabited island with a lagoon where they could safely summon the sea goddess.

It was with a great deal of nervousness Rose waved goodbye and saw the fishing boat sail away. What if Gibbs had been entirely wrong about the purpose of Jack’s errand, and that this was just a way to take advantage of her? He wanted her in his bed, he had said as much, and though she had come to like him lately Rose did not want to sleep with him. She knew too little about Jack for that sort of thing, and she still did not trust him entirely.

“So, what’s this mystery mission about?” she asked, pushing back her anxiety as she followed Jack along a barely visible path through the dense foliage.

“You’ll see.” He seemed tense, his face had an unusually grim expression. Was his mother really that bad? If that was who they would visit.

The jungle opened up and they came to a steep hill, covered with bushes, and on the top stood a small wooden building. When they had climbed the hill, Rose stopped to admire the view. She could see the beach where they had landed, and beyond, the blue expanse of the sea.

“Amazing!”

Jack came to stand beside her. “Indeed,” he agreed, his features softening as he lovingly gazed at the horizon. 

The house was sturdy but simple, built of rough wooden planks, and had glassless windows covered by shutters. Jack opened the shutters to let in the light, and Rose looked around in the single room with surprise. The furniture was very modest; a bed, a few shelves, a table with one chair, a wood-burning stove, but the walls were decorated with several beautiful coal drawings. With a sharp pang Rose was instantly reminded of _her_ Jack, but where he had drawn people, this artist had exclusively drawn ships. 

She went closer to one of them, reaching out to touch the yellowing paper. The ship was black, with black sails on three masts and a black flag with the familiar pirate’s skull and bones motif. The detail was exquisite.

“You drew this,” she guessed, and Jack’s silence confirmed her suspicion. Walking around the walls, Rose came across a shelf with two wooden ship models, one of them half finished. They seemed to be the same ship as the drawings had pictured. “And those? You made those too?” she asked.

“It’s a pastime.” He shrugged.

“Is it the Black Pearl?”

“It is. But enough of the questions, let’s eat.” He unpacked the provisions they had taken with them from the Barnacle, hardtack crackers and salted meat, and then went to rummage in a small cupboard beside the stove, taking out a bucket, a wooden plate and a tin cup. “I only have tableware for one, but we can share.” He went outside with the bucket and soon returned with it full of water.

Rose could hardly believe her eyes when he dipped the cup into the bucket and placed it on the table.

“We’ll drink water?” 

“Aye.” He had a very odd expression and Rose suddenly realized one thing he had _not_ brought from the fishing boat.

“Where is the rum?” 

“Didn’t bring any.” 

“You brought no rum for a ten day’s stay?” Rose blinked in surprise.

“No.” Jack pushed the table closer to the bed and sat on it, indicating Rose could take the single chair. 

They ate in silence, soaking the hardtack in water. This mission kept getting more mysterious. Jack _always_ drank, but in his house there was no alcohol. Why? And what was his errand here? There were no mothers around as far as she could tell, and the surrounding jungle seemed deserted. 

“So, what do we do now?” she said at last.

“We’ll stay in this house one week, and then I have an appointment. You can come too if you want.”

“An appointment with who?”

“You’ll see.” 

“Dammit, Jack.” She scowled at him.

He grinned mischievously, clearly enjoying her frustration.

“And during the week, what will we do?”

“Passing the time. Fishing, picking coconuts, that sort of thing. Maybe nude swimming together?” 

“You wish.” 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

It really became the oddest afternoon. Jack spent most of it fishing just like he had said, catching a few weirdly shaped fish and one squid. He went swimming too, with Rose pointedly turning her back as he unabashedly stripped all his clothes right in front of her. She only peeked a little at his backside when he walked out into the water, secretly admiring his firm buttocks and broad shoulders. 

On the way back to the cabin, they found two old, dry coconuts near the path, and Jack used his long knife to cut some young palms, peeling off the leaves and bark and taking out the white cores that he claimed to be good food. 

Seeing Jack prepare dinner was another novelty. With practiced ease he boned the fish and fried them on the stove together with the squid, and then sliced up the palm marrow and the coconuts. The fish tasted lovely, and the sweet coconut meat and palm cores made a nice side dish.

They did not speak much, Jack was beginning to look gloomy again and Rose did not want to ask why, knowing he would probably refuse answering anyway. She just had to be patient, in time she would find out.

When they had finished their meal the sun was already setting, and thanks to the house’s location on the hilltop, Rose could watch the amazing panorama as the large red orb sank below the horizon. This view alone would make the week enjoyable, she figured, and the languid afternoon had been very relaxing after all the adventure lately.

When she returned inside, she saw Jack had found a couple of bone dice.

“Want to play?” he asked.

“Sure, if you tell me how.” 

This he did, and soon they were pleasantly occupied. Jack won nearly every round, the pebbles they used for tokens piling up in front of him.

“Cheater.”

“Prove it.” He smirked. 

“You’re a pirate, right? You guys are not exactly known for your honesty.”

When it had become too dark to see the dice, Jack proclaimed himself the winner. “And this means I get the bed,” he decided.

Rose looked at the simple bed, dismayed as she realized there was only one. “Then where will _I_ sleep?”

“Ah, I’m feeling generous today. I’ll share.”

“I’m not sharing a bed with you!”

“No? Suit yourself then. There is always the floor.”

Grumbling, Rose spread the blanket Jack offered her and laid down on the hard surface. It was awful, no matter how she turned and twisted she could not find a comfortable position.

“Damn you, Jack,” she cursed. “A real gentleman would give up his bed.”

“I’m far from being a gentleman.” He chuckled.

“Clearly.” 

Rose held out a little while more, then she sat up with a sigh. “If I come to the bed, will you leave me alone?” 

“Rose… I am a bastard, I know that, but not _that_ kind of bastard.” He sounded uncharacteristically serious. “I won’t touch you – unless you want me to.”

A little less apprehensive, Rose crawled down beside him, feeling him move back to accommodate her. The bed was narrow and she was acutely aware of his warm form so close. At least he had bathed. 

“Goodnight,” she murmured.

“Goodnight.” After a while he silently added: “I’m glad you came.” She did not know if he meant to the bed or on this errand. Maybe both. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

The first day in Jack’s house had been nice and relaxing, but the second day was completely different. He woke in a foul mood that only grew worse as the day proceeded. He snapped angrily at whatever she said or did, and as they went fishing, he nearly broke his fishing rod in halves when he did not catch anything fast enough. 

Rose took a walk along the beach, hoping he would have calmed down when she returned. She walked barefoot, feeling the warm sand under her soles and enjoying being in such a paradise. Every now and then she bent to pick up a pretty seashell or a smooth stone. 

After about a mile, she discovered a small pond that had formed when the tide fell, with a cute little sea turtle swimming in circles.

“Hello, you,” she cooed. “Are you stuck?” She picked it up, admiring its reddish shell and marbled skin pattern and stroking its smooth head. 

“Perfect,” came Jack’s voice from behind, as he caught up with her. “Since my luck has abandoned me today, we’ll have that for lunch.”

“We’re not eating it.” Rose clutched the animal protectively.

“Don’t be stupid. Give it to me.” He reached for the turtle but Rose backed away. “Oh for Heaven’s sake! You’d rather we starve then? Bloody softhearted woman!” 

“Go away.” She scowled at him.

“Just give me the damn creature.”

“No!”

“Fine! I’m not making you anything else, if that’s what you thought.” He spat and stomped away in the direction they had come.

Rose frowned at his retreating back. Why was he so horrible today? Yesterday he had been almost… sweet, for lack of a better word. Human. 

When Jack had gone, she went down to the beach and carefully put the turtle into the water, smiling as it eagerly paddled away, free at last. 

Then to her surprise it suddenly began to grow and expand, and right in front of her eyes it changed form. When the metamorphosis was complete, a young girl of around ten or eleven stood before her, wearing a rusty red dress in the same marble pattern as the turtle’s skin. Her hair was rusty red too, a bit like Rose’s own, and her skin was brown.

Rose stared at the girl, too shocked to utter a sound. This must be a hallucination, brought by the heat. This was not real.

“Thank you,” said the girl. “You saved my life.”

“It was nothing,” mumbled Rose weakly. Of all the strange things she had experienced since she died, this waking dream was by far the weirdest. It was so real, so vivid. 

“No, it was everything! That horrible pirate would have _eaten_ me!” The girl shuddered, and then smiled cutely. “I’m Otohime. Who are you?”

“I’m Rose,” she answered automatically.

“Nice to meet you. Will you be my friend? I’m very lonely.”

“Oh. Well, sure…”

“Great!” Otohime took her hand. “Come, I’ll show you where I live.”

Rose numbly followed the girl out into the water, but when it reached her chest she temporarily woke up from her trance-like state.

“Wait! You live under the surface?”

“Of course. I’m the daughter of the Ruler of the Sea.” The girl pulled harder on her hand, and Rose found herself following against her better judgment. To her surprise she could breathe the water like air, and together they walked on the ocean floor between seaweed and corals with a multitude of fish of all colors and forms.

Further out it got deeper and darker, but Otohime wore a white seashell in a chain around her neck and it spread light enough for them to see by.

“I’m dreaming, right?” said Rose conversationally.

“No, your eyes are open. When I sleep I always have my eyes closed, and Mom too.”

“Right. So then I’m hallucinating?”

“Hallu-what?”

Rose was about to explain when she caught sight of a dazzling vision ahead. Down in a valley on the seafloor was a grand castle, lit by thousands of shells like the one Otohime wore. Merfolk swam in and out of its many windows, playing tag in the surrounding garden, and a small red crab passed by, riding in a wagon pulled by seahorses.

As they came closer, Rose saw the garden was designed in a specific pattern. On one side of the castle grew freshly green sea lettuce, on the next side was a meadow of multicolored sea pens in seagrass, then came red sea cucumbers and starfish among brown, leafy kelp, and lastly, a mass of white brittle stars fenced in by a row of icicles.

“It’s the four seasons,” she realized.

“Yes! Not many notice it.” Otohime beamed at her. “The garden gets like that because no time passes here. So you can’t stay too long, or you will find everybody has grown old and you haven’t. That accidentally happened last time I brought someone here.” She giggled.

“Right. I will remember that.”

The area was well lit, and now Rose saw it came from the very walls themselves, they emitted a bluish, fluorescent light. 

They were almost there now, walking on a white road made of a thick layer of white seashells that lead to the palace gates. They were huge and pompous, covered with millions of pink pearls, probably worth a fortune. Rose was reminded of her pearl earrings that she had given to Jack for his help with the quest. If she could get just a handful of the ones decorating the gates she could maybe buy them back.

On either side of the entrance a muscular merman stood guard. Their naked chests were green-tinted, much like fish skin, glittering in the light from the castle. Their torsos seamlessly faded into large tail fins and their fingers were webbed.

“Bringing  _ land _ stuff again, Otohime?” said one contemptuously.

“That’s not an item. It’s a woman,” said the other, a hungry glint awakening in his lifeless eyes. And then he changed, right before her eyes, losing much of his fish appearance and turning into a handsome young man around her own age. Only the fishtail remained. When she looked at the other he had changed too, and now Rose could not quite recall what they had looked like before. 

“Do you come here often?” said the first one, giving her a lopsided, boyish grin, coquettishly stroking back a lock of his hair. His eyes twinkled and Rose could not hold back a smile of her own.

“No,” she said.

“What are you  _ doing _ ?” Otohime stamped her feet. “Stop that, you two! She’s mine.”

“So, have you ever wondered what a merman looks under his tail?” asked the other, ignoring the girl. He had swam up to her, coming so close she could see his impressive six-packs and bulging arm muscles.

“No,” she said again, reaching out to touch his swelling bicep just to see if it was real. It felt rough and scaly under her fingertip which confused her a little, but then the merman flashed his even, white teeth in a gorgeous smile and she forgot what she had been thinking.

“Get  _ off _ her! Go away! I  _ order _ you!” screamed Otohime.

“But I like them,” said Rose dreamily. “They are pretty.”

“No they are ugly fishmen who just want to eat you. Don’t let them mess with your brain.”

“They can eat me if they like. I don’t mind.” 

“You’re impossible. All of you.” Otohime pushed Rose inside the palace and slammed the gate in the mermen’s faces. An angry screech came through but Otohime ignored it.

“They are horrible,” she muttered and took Rose’s hand again. “I wish Mom would fire them and hire mermaids as guards instead.” They walked a while through long, empty corridors.

“Are you going to eat me too?” asked Rose. The absurdity of the situation made her giggle. But she must be dreaming, so it probably did not matter. 

“Of course not! You’re my friend. And you saved my life.”

They had come to Otohime’s room now, which was large and had a lovely view over the summer garden. The walls were decorated in various hues of pink and covered in shelves with a huge collection of what to Rose looked like junk; broken bottles, crooked cutlery, a painting, a bent chandelier, a pair of mismatched boots.

“I collect things from the surface,” she explained. “I wish I could go there, but Mom says I can’t until I’m grown up.” She pouted. “That’s why I changed into a sea turtle… but that did not turn out at all like I had planned.”

“Where’s your mother now?”

“Oh, busy working as usual. She’s away a lot, but since time doesn't pass down here I don’t notice it anyway, so that’s okay, I guess.”

“But if time doesn't pass, how can you grow up?”

“Oh!” The girl stared at her. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She sat on her fluffy, pink bed, absentmindedly toying with an ancient looking wooden horse. “Mom probably doesn't want me to become an adult. Well, I’m going to, so there! I’m moving out.” She jumped up and began to hurriedly pack a bag, cramming down clothes, collectables and toys in an unorganized mess. “I’m going to stay with the mermaids at Isla Serena. Want me to take you back to the shore first?”

“Yes, please.”

This time Otohime turned into a silvery dolphin, and let Rose ride her. They left through the window to avoid the hungry mermen, and the journey back was much speedier than when they had come the other way. 

When they were back at the beach again she changed into her girl form and took off her necklace, giving it to Rose.

“Whisper my name into the seashell if you need help sometime. I owe you for saving my life.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Goodbye, Rose, it was great fun meeting you!”

“Goodbye, Otohime.”

The girl dived into the waves, turning back into a dolphin the moment she touched the water. 

Rose looked long after the disappearing creature, not knowing what to think of her strange afternoon. Had all this been real?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of the out-of-character Jack of this chapter, why did he not bring the rum? And what do we make of Rose's strange adventure? I always love to hear your thoughts. :)


	11. The Appointment

Rose remained at the beach a long time, bemusedly trying to organize her chaotic thoughts. She stroked the white seashell around her neck. It felt real. Had this insane adventure been real too? Had she actually met a turtle-girl and followed her to an undersea castle with merfolk? 

If she had, was it any stranger than being dragged back in time by the Heart of the Ocean, or the fact that the Flying Dutchman existed, or that they were about to summon a sea goddess? 

Still feeling numb and confused, Rose walked back along the beach and up the path to Jack’s house. The sun was almost setting, she must have been gone longer than she had thought.

When she walked inside, Jack sprang from the bed, staring at her wildly. 

“Where have you been?” 

“Um… out?” She did not feel like explaining her unusual afternoon.

“Out? Where? I looked all over the place! How could you be so thoughtless?” He grabbed her arms and all but shook her. “After the first night I thought…” He let her go, breathing heavily. 

“First night?” Rose felt a growing suspicion. _You can’t stay too long, or you will find everybody has grown old and you haven’t._ “How long was I gone?”

“Don’t you even know? Where _were_ you?”

“Just answer the question!” Now it was Rose’s turn to grab his arms.

“Three days. You were gone for three days.”

“My goodness… where I was, no time passed. It felt like less than an hour!” Then she told him the whole story, showing him the seashell necklace as proof.

When she had finished, he still looked angry. “I can’t believe you followed an unknown girl into the ocean like that. What if she had trapped you there? You could have been stuck much longer than three days.” 

“I know, I didn’t think straight. I was in shock.”

“Stupid. Reckless,” he muttered, turning his back. He was trembling heavily, Rose noticed, and his shirt was soaked with sweat. 

“Are you alright?”

“No I’m not,” he growled, stomping back to the bed and throwing himself on it, still with his back turned. 

Rose sat beside him, touching his forehead. It was burning hot, and clammy with perspiration.

“What happened to you? Are you ill?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something. You look terrible.”

“Why, thank you,” he said sardonically. “Trust me, it’s nothing to worry about. It will pass. In another day or so I'll be fine.”

Rose was confused. Thinking back, she realized Jack’s malady had started the day after they came here, when he had been so irritated for seemingly no reason. What was causing it, and how could he be so sure it would pass? Unless… 

“This happened to you before?”

“Aye.”

“And you seem to know why. Is it a curse?”

“I guess you could call it a curse.” He laughed mirthlessly.

Then the truth hit her. “It’s the drink. Your body needs it.” 

His silence was answer enough. So, he was trying to get sober, and that was why he would stay a week here before his appointment. Apparently he did not want whomever he was meeting to see his normal, drunk self. That would also explain his heavy drinking afterwards that Gibbs had mentioned. But why? Why put himself through something like that voluntarily? It was clear the abstaining made him feel terrible.

Again, Rose knew she would have to be patient. In time, she would find out.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

The day before the appointment, Jack’s tremors were finally gone entirely and thankfully he seemed less cross too. His crankiness the past days had grated on her nerves terribly. 

He was not quite as amiable now as during their first day, but almost. They fished, he took another nude swim, they played at dice and Rose lost again, he even boiled some water so they could wash their hair and clothes. 

Jack spent a long time making himself ready the next morning. He trimmed his beard short and combed his hair, tying it back in a ponytail after the fashion of this time, and put on well-tailored clothes he had kept in a chest by the bed. When he was finally done he appeared elegant and respectable, and without the black around his eyes they looked softer, making him seem younger and more vulnerable. He almost had become a different person, as if he had removed his pirate persona together with his old clothes.

“I hardly recognize you.” 

“For the better, or worse?” He smiled, obviously knowing the answer.

“You look handsome,” she acceded. “So, who are we meeting?” If it was his mother, that would explain a great deal. Perhaps she did not know her son was a pirate.

“You’ll see.” He fidgeted with his shirtsleeve, and suddenly looked nervous. “Remember not to call me Jack. Over there I go by the name of Thatch. John Thatch.”

“It’s your real name, isn’t it?” She peered at him imploringly. “John… Jack. It’s your name.”

“Yes. Please keep it a secret, though.” Again he had that vulnerable expression, and Rose fought an impulse to give him a comforting hug. Instead she turned around, indicating her unlaced corset and dress.

“Help me with this, will you? If you are such a fine gentleman, I should at least look _somewhat_ ladylike, right?”

Jack complied, but Rose had not anticipated the effect he would have on her as he laced her up, how intimate it felt to have him touch her back. When he had finished, his fingers lingered just a little too long on her neck. Then he turned her around, holding her at an arm’s length, his gaze trailing over her critically.

“It will do,” he said at last, but his eyes spoke volumes more of what he really thought. Rose suddenly found it hard to breathe, and not only because of the corset.

They left the house, Rose on Jack’s arm, walking down the other side of the hill and along another path through the greenery. After the jungle came a large sugar plantation and the path widened into a road. 

More plantations followed and then they reached a small town. On the edge of it was a large, demure stone building surrounded by a well kept garden.

“Here we are.” 

“It’s… a _monastery_? We’re meeting a priest? Or a nun?” Rose looked around her with wide eyes.

As they continued she marvelled over what was just happening. She and Jack, on their way to a monastery! In a million years she could never have guessed it. Was his mother a nun?

The building itself was less interesting than its surroundings. There was a fruit orchard and a large herb garden, smelling heavenly, and Rose drew deep breaths. The place was almost eerily still and silent. 

Then she heard steps and a girl came running up the gravel walk, throwing herself around Jack’s neck. 

“Daddy!” 

“Whoa, you’ve grown tall.” He glanced sheepishly at Rose. So, it was not his mother he was meeting after all. 

“I missed you lots and lots. Have you got my present?” The girl looked at him expectantly.

“You obviously only missed my money.” 

“Yep. That’s what I have you for.” She smiled shrewdly, looking uncannily like Jack. “Who is she?” She nodded at Rose.

“This is Miss Rose Dawson, a good friend of mine. And Rose, this is Pearl Thatch, my daughter.”

“How do you do.” Pearl curtsied prettily. Rose returned the greeting, feeling a warmth at being called Jack’s ‘good friend’.

“So. My gift?” 

“Alright, impatient imp. Happy thirteenth birthday.” He produced a small box. The girl opened it, and gasped happily as she took out a set of pearl earrings that Rose instantly recognized. It was hers. Jack had got them as payment for his help with the summoning. 

“Pearls for my Pearl,” he said.

“Cheesy.” The girl was already putting them on. “Anyway, the nuns won’t let me wear them, you know.”

“Best not get caught at it then.” 

“Right. I won’t.” She pulled a lock of hair from her updo on either side of her face, covering the pearls. They shared a sly grin.

The girl skipped ahead and Jack offered Rose his arm. He wore an odd expression, as if challenging her to show reproof. Maybe in this era having a – presumably – illegitimate daughter was a horrible thing, and come to think of it, it was frowned upon in her time as well – but Rose was not quick to judge. At least he acknowledged the child and visited her regularly, that had to count for something. And frankly, with his looks and flirtatious behavior, it was not very surprising he should have a child – it was more strange he only had _one_.

“She’s beautiful. Takes after her father, probably.” As she met his gaze, the look of relief and gratitude in his eyes made her stomach flip. 

She was falling badly for this man, there was no denying it anymore. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

They spent two days at the monastery, sleeping very prudently in guestrooms placed in entirely different parts of the building to prevent indecency, and enjoying pleasant albeit dull meals with the nuns and the other girls at their care. Jack entertained Pearl with his recent adventures as a merchant marine, which was his given profession – none of them true, Rose suspected – and Pearl told him of all the mischief she had been up to. She apparently was an expert at leading the other girls on quests of trickery and pranks against the nuns, as well as making nightly raids into the kitchens, and she never got caught.

“That’s my girl,” said Jack proudly.

Then came the evening of the second day, and it was time to leave. Pearl bravely waved goodbye, her eyes dry, but the pain of separation was written all over her face. Rose was certain Jack felt it too, although he feigned cheerfulness during their walk back to his house, talking about how good it would be to board a boat again the next day.

“I’ve almost lost my sea legs,” he complained. 

Rose did not speak much, instead she mulled over all the questions she wanted to ask him, fearing he would refuse to answer as was his habit. 

She waited until they lay in semi-darkness in his bed. If he could not see her face, he might find it easier to talk.

“If Pearl is thirteen, you must have been a very young father,” she said. 

“I was sixteen. She wasn’t exactly planned.” He sounded bitter.

“Who is her mother?”

“A whore,” he said flatly. Rose suspected he wanted to shock her, making her too intimidated or disgusted to keep asking. He ought to know by now she was not that easily daunted.

“Where is she now?” 

“Sleeping around, I suppose?” 

“Jack…”

He sighed, finally giving in to her curiosity. “We lived together at first, after she discovered she was pregnant. But after the baby was born we had almost no money left, and I saw no other way than going back to sea. Then one time when I came home, they were gone. She had taken the money and left Pearl with the nuns. When I found her, she was back at the same brothel where she used to work.” 

“But why? Why would she want to go back to _that_?”

“I guess she and I were rather alike. The old way of living was too tempting, we just couldn’t stay away from it. The money, the fine clothes, the drink… the freedom.”

“What will you do when Pearl comes of age? You can’t keep pretending forever, _Johnny._ ”

“Stop it.” He poked her shoulder. “I don’t know what I’ll do then. Maybe I’ll quit. But I said that many times... About many things.” 

“I wish you would stop–”

“Don’t. Please.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“I know what you were gonna say.” He paused. “Rose, despite what people may think, I’m not stupid. I know I drink too much. I know it’s dangerous. The gutters of Turtuga are full of miserable wretches who only live for the bottle, and sooner or later they end up dead. Usually sooner. I’m not there yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s where I’ll be eventually. Unless they hang me for piracy first.” He closed his eyes. “Even now, I think of it. That first bottle, how I will crack it open and take a long pull, savvy? The feeling of my senses slowly numbing.”

“I guess it’s fun to get drunk every once in a while, but all the time? What’s the appeal?”

“Sober me is boring, haven’t you noticed?” he said bitterly. “This me worries. Feels guilt. This me regrets that I can’t play house and be with my daughter like a real father.”

“You don’t like yourself?”

“No, I _do_ like myself. I’m pretty amazing, actually.” He smiled wryly in the dim light, and she knew he was completely honest. 

“Arrogant bastard.” She returned his smile. 

He touched her cheek lightly, serious again. “This me looks at this beautiful woman next to me and wants to kiss her but… hesitates.”

“Why?” Her breath caught. She wanted him to kiss her. 

“Because this me knows I’m no good for her. I’m too old. A thief and a killer. While _she_ … she is kind and pure. I’d ruin her.”

“Pure.” She could not hold back a chuckle, and the tense mood lightened. 

“Drunk me would not care about those things and just go for it. No second thoughts. But sober me would offer her the chance to walk away before it was too late.”

“What would you do if she walked away?”

“Well…” His lips quirked up. “Honestly, I’d be surprised and rather disappointed.” 

She laughed at that, moving a little closer. “You’re funny, Johnny. What would you do if she chose to stay?” 

“First, I would box her ear for calling me Johnny again. It’s only slightly better than Jackie, which is what my dad calls me. Next, I would kiss her thoroughly until her lips were swollen. And then I’d slowly undress her, lighting a candle so I could admire the view. When she was naked, I’d taste her with my lips and tongue, every inch of that very promising body.”

“Even my toes?” Rose’s heart beat faster. Hearing Jack speak like this was more arousing than being painted by _her_ Jack wearing only the Heart of the Ocean. Well, her _other_ Jack, that was.

“Especially your toes. I’d suck them.”

“Oh God…” She swallowed. “And then what?”

“You know what. You did it before.”

“Well, yes. How can you tell?”

“Lucky guess.” He smiled. “There was someone on that ship, was it?”

“Yes. He was named Jack, actually.”

“A good, strong name.” 

“There must be something with men called Jack that appeals to me.” She combed through his hair with her fingers, meeting his gaze earnestly. “Look... You don’t have to worry about my purity or ruining me. I may be younger than you but I’m not stupid either, I know this would only be temporary. Just… two people finding comfort in each other’s… company.” 

And then she did what she had wanted to do for a very long time, and kissed him. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

Rays from the rising sun streamed in through the open window, landing on Rose’s face. She blinked tiredly, hiding her face in the nape of Jack’s neck. He smelled good. She nibbled his skin, deciding he tasted good too.

“I’d better make you breakfast before I find myself on the menu of a cannibal again.” 

“I’m hungry for something else.”

“I thought I had worn you out yesterday.” He yawned and stretched his arms. “I’m too old for this.”

She snorted. “You’re not old. And is it so strange I want to make the most of what little time we got left?” A thought struck her. ”Do you think they do this kind of thing in the afterlife?”

“Probably not where _you’re_ going. There will be harp-playing, gathering flowers – that sort of thing. But you could always go down a few circles to where I’ll be. I’m sure that place is much more decadent.” 

She tried to laugh but it caught in her throat. Soon she would die again, and this time there would be no pirates, no adventure, no making new friends… no Jack. 

He palmed her cheek, turning her face towards his, caressing it with his thumb. “Maybe you’ll be an angel. You’ll come back to save wretched scoundrels like me.” 

“I will.” She wiped her eyes. “And I’ll put in a good word for you, telling them you’re loyal and loving towards your daughter and a good friend. There is a heart in there, somewhere.” She placed her hand on the soft skin of his chest, smiling through her tears. “Like you said yourself – you’re pretty amazing. You’re a pretty amazing man, Jack.”

He stared at her in surprise, and then quickly turned his face away, but not before she saw the self-loathing that had filled his eyes. 

“You’re deceiving yourself.” His voice was harsh, almost angry. 

“No, I’m not.”

“I’m a bloody pirate and a scumbag, Rose. Don’t do this.” He hastily sat up. “Get dressed. It’s time to return to the Barnacle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be no more out-of-character Jack for a while, in the next chapter he will be back as his familiar old drunk self, the one that we learned to love and… well, love. That will be nice. Or? 
> 
> About Jack’s real name… most of the pirates of the Golden Age of Piracy went by pseudonyms. Since Jack’s father Edward Teague in the movies was loosely inspired by Edward Teach (Blackbeard), also spelled Thatch, I’m thinking they should share surnames.
> 
> Also, if anyone wonders about the Blackbeard of the fourth movie (On Stranger Tides), he doesn’t exist in this story, since this is an alternate version of what happens after movie 3 (At World's End). 


	12. How to Summon a Sea Goddess

Jack was drinking again, which ought to feel normal because that was what he always did, but instead a heavy knot formed in Rose’s belly whenever she looked at him. He did it so very demonstratively too, like he really wanted to stress into her the fact he was no good. 

Well, too late for that. If he wanted her to not care about him he should never have brought her on his visit with his daughter. Having once experienced it, it was impossible to unsee caring, sober Jack.

”Cheers, Rose.” He unsteadily raised his bottle. 

”Cheers, Johnny,” she hissed, but not before making sure nobody else was around to hear. 

He scowled darkly at her. With his eyes again highlighted in black, he could produce the most formidable scowl. 

”You…” he began, but then lost his balance and sat down clumsily. ”I’ll get you later. Evil woman.”

Rose turned her back, burying her face in her arms. She wanted to scream, or cry, or maybe first scream, then cry. Why was he like this? Why did she care?

One night had not been enough. Not nearly enough. Besides, she wanted more than a skilled lover, she wanted him body _and_ soul. But that she would never get, damn the man. If he could not even give it to his flesh and blood daughter, Rose would not deceive herself into believing he would give it to her. He was a pirate and a scoundrel, just like he had said. 

She felt an arm around her shoulder and looked up into Elizabeth’s sympathetic face. 

”Want to talk about it?”

”Not really.” 

“Oh, this is new!” Elizabeth touched the white seashell pendant Otohime had given Rose. “It looks a bit like my husband’s, that he inherited from the former captain of the Dutchman. Beautiful!”

“Thank you.” Rose did not feel like describing her strange undersea adventure. She did not feel like talking at all.

”Shall I tell you about the island we found?”

”Please do.” Rose appreciated her friend’s perseverance. She was really trying hard to cheer her up. 

”It’s a perfect place, with the most beautiful lagoon surrounded by sharp cliffs, and since we had time over we even built a fireplace for the sacrifice. It will work for sure. We also restocked the rum, for which I’m thankful.” She glanced at Jack. 

“Sounds perfect.” Rose tried to smile.

“And also, something is beginning to show… look.” Elizabeth pushed out her stomach, exposing a tiny bump. 

“Aww. I’m happy for you.” Rose placed her hand on the slight swelling. “How long are you gone?”

“Soon three months. I know exactly when it happened.” She grinned. 

Rose’s smile waned as she was reminded of Elizabeth’s and her husband’s predicament. One day ashore, ten years at sea… If their plan to strike a deal with Calypso did not work, Will’s child would not meet their father until he or she was over nine years old. Harsh.

“A baby!” came Jack’s slurred voice. “I like babies.”

Elizabeth looked at him with surprise. “You do? I’d never have guessed.”

“Land ho!” cried Gibbs, and they all turned their attention to the approaching island. It really did look perfect, small and uninhabited, reminding Rose of the one where they had gone to forge the silver sword.

As they went ashore, Hector capered away with a happy grunt, finding lots of tasty plants to chew. The island was small enough for them to let him run loose.

They unpacked the rest of the necessary items and began to build a fire.

“How is the summoning performed?” asked Rose.

“First we drench the pig in rum, then we slit its throat with the silver sword, and lastly we burn the sacrifice,” explained Jack. “As long as we keep pouring rum over the fire, Calypso won’t be able to leave.”

“Wait, what? We’re killing Hector?” Rose stared at him.

“We have to.”

“No! No way!”

“Oh come on Rose, are you going to be like that again? You’ve eaten salted pork all of this journey. What’s the difference?”

“Those pigs I didn’t know. This is _Hector_ we’re talking of!” 

As if he recognized his name, the pig came trotting up to them, buffing Jack’s leg with his snout. The pirate looked down at the animal with dismay.

“Here’s an idea,” said Gibbs, who had overheard their discussion. “Why don’t we create a wooden pig, cover it with salted bacon and use that for a sacrifice? I mean, it’s worth a try, and if that won’t work we can resort to Hector.”

“Alright, you softhearted wussies,” Jack conceded, still looking annoyed. “You make the pig. I’m going to sleep.” He demonstratively lay down, pulling his hat over his face.

The other three set to work, and soon had – in Rose’s opinion – a very good likeness of a pig. Its head was a coconut still in its green husk, its body a piece of driftwood and the four legs sturdy sticks. For the tail they had used a piece of string and the ears were palmleaves. Since it was supposed to be a black pig, they painted it with a partly burned stick.

When they had finished wrapping the entire thing in salted pork, Gibbs went to rouse Jack. “Time to get started.”

Jack eyed their work critically but said nothing. Instead he took the sword, jabbed it into the pig’s coconut head and poured a bottle of rum over it all.

“What a waste,” he said sadly. 

“Time to get the jewel,” said Elizabeth. “Rose?”

Rose took off her boot and felt the familiar hardness in its toe. But when her hand came out, she found herself holding a smooth, grey stone instead of the expected diamond. With a pang of disappointment she looked at Jack.

“How could you?”

He pulled something gleaming out of his inner pocket. The Heart. 

“I told you. I’m a bloody pirate and a scumbag. Untrustworthy.” His gaze was hard, but Rose got a feeling his annoyance was mostly directed towards himself.

“You bastard!” Elizabeth had drawn her sword and jumped on him furiously, but he obviously had expected it, drawing his own sword and meeting her assault with his usual grace and ease. 

“Jack, be reasonable now! There are hundreds of ways to retrieve your ship, but no other way to free Liz’ husband,” Rose called, backing away to avoid being caught in the middle of the skirmish. “You don’t wanna do this!”

“No, I _do_ wanna do this.” Jack feigned a strike on Elizabeth’s right side and then hit to the left. She fended it off just barely, and put out her foot, trying to trip her opponent. He easily stepped over her leg and struck at her left side again, putting more force behind the action. Again she fenced it off, but had to take a step backwards to keep her balance.

“Do something!” Rose nudged Gibbs, who had been staring at the combatants, his hand on his own sword but seemingly unsure what to do. 

“Right.” Drawing his sword he joined Elizabeth, who gave him a grateful smile. The two of them were a more equal match for Jack, who had broken a sweat, but still seemed undaunted.

The fight moved in Rose’s direction, and she made to fall back, but before she could lift her foot Jack had taken a quick leap behind her, catching her in his arms. She felt a chill as the cold steel of his sword touched her throat.

“Back off and drop your swords,” he called sharply to Elizabeth and Gibbs. They gaped at him, hesitating with their weapons still in hand.

Rose said nothing, shocked at the extent of Jack’s betrayal. Only yesterday morning she had been in his bed, with his arms around her like now – but instead making love to her, now he was threatening to take her life. 

No. No! This was wrong. He was not going to kill her, it was an empty threat. He would never hurt her. She _knew_ he would not hurt her. 

Slowly raising her hand, Rose placed her fingers over Jack’s, moving the sword an inch to the side so she could turn to face him. 

“I won’t permit this,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “I’m not letting you sink this low.”

His sword came back to touch her neck. “You can’t save me,” he hissed, his gaze stubbornly turned away. Then, louder, directed at the others: “I said _drop the swords_.”

Rose could not see if they obeyed but did not care. She was leaving for the afterlife soon anyway, and besides, Jack would not hurt her. He would not hurt her! She cupped his cheek, and now he finally met her gaze, his eyes widening in surprise as she stood on her toes and kissed him straight on the mouth. 

“Damn you, woman.” He pushed her away and pounced on Elizabeth and Gibbs, who apparently had kept their weapons in hand, for they met his attack with no delay. 

Meanwhile, Rose sank to her knees as the bravery abandoned her. She felt an odd mixture of anger at Jack’s threatening her and relief that she had judged him right. He had not hurt her, and now she knew for sure he never would. 

But what if he wounded any of the others? She cast a frightened glance at the fight. Elizabeth was pregnant, she must not get hurt either. When fencing with sharp weapons anything could happen.

Then Rose got an idea. Perhaps the sea goddess could put a stop to this. She picked up the tinderbox Jack had placed beside the fireplace, and with shaking fingers she struck the steel with the flint over the wooden pig. After a few tries she produced a rain of sparks, and that was all it took; the rum ignited and soon everything had caught fire. 

A pungent smell of burned bacon and alcohol spread among them as smoke billowed up in a grey column. From the lagoon came a low rumble, like thunder. The clangs of steel ceased as the other three realized what Rose had done, and all eyes were turned to the water. It had become unruly, with bubbles forming like in a huge, boiling cauldron. The rumbling increased into a nearly deafening crescendo, and then a massive structure of seaweed and various sea creatures formed in the center of the lagoon. It looked humanoid, with a face, body, arms and legs, reminding Rose vaguely of the painting Vertumnus, the one with a man’s face made up of fruit and vegetables. 

“It worked,” she cried, temporarily forgetting the fight over the Heart in her relief that the wooden pig had been a suitable sacrifice.

The strange creature in the water changed, solidified and morphed into a woman, thrice as tall as a human being. Her skin was brown, decorated with a pattern of black marks, and her ebony hair was worn in matted, messy braids. Her black lips were drawn back into a snarl and her furious glare pierced Jack and Elizabeth. 

“How _dare_ you summon me again, Pirate Lords?” She pronounced the words slowly and distinctly in an accent Rose did not recognize, her dark voice echoing between the surrounding cliffs. 

Jack mutely held out the Heart of the Ocean towards her. It had changed. No longer was it a cool, blue diamond; in the presence of its owner it had become crimson, pulsating with power, beating like a living heart.

“You… It was YOU! _You_ took my heart, Jack Sparrow.” Calypso pointed accusingly at Jack. He flinched guiltily and took a step backwards. 

“Captain,” he mumbled. “It’s _Captain_ Jack Sparrow.”

Gibbs gawked at Jack with bulging eyes. “The dishonest lover was _you_?”

“A sea goddess’ lover?” Rose stared at him too. “Not that I blame her,” she added silently.

“You never cease to amaze me, Jack. How could you steal her very _heart_?” Gibbs shook his head in disbelief.

“ _Borrow_. I only borrowed it! And I was going to return it.” He backed another step as Calypso towered over him, fuming with rage.

“How could you return my heart _after you had sold it_?” she growled.

“I was in a bit of a predicament at the time. But hey, I brought it back to you, no harm done, savvy?” Again he raised the throbbing jewel.

The sea goddess reached for it, but Jack was too far away. 

“Quick, someone pour more rum over the fire, as soon as it stops burning she can get to us,” he cried.

Elizabeth emptied another rum bottle and threw more firewood on top.

“You shall get it back, Calypso. I just need one tiny, tiny little favor.” He put his index finger and his thumb close together. 

“You dare bargaining with me OVER MY OWN HEART? That _you stole_?” bellowed Calypso.

“Borrowed,” he corrected. Then his voice became beseeching, and he very nearly made puppy eyes at the goddess. “Just one little thing. It’s easy for you, Tia. I mean Calypso. I just want my ship, savvy? I must have her back. I need her.”

“Curse you, Jack Sparrow. Curse you!”

“Please.”

Shaking with rage, Calypso roared out her frustration and anger. Pebbles rolled away from under their feet and the ground trembled. 

Then she waved her hands in an intricate pattern, and Rose felt a breeze against her face. It grew in strength, stirring the grass around her, and within moments it had become a strong gale. The palms bowed to the ground, and by the beach the Barnacle nearly tore its moorings as the wind increased. Strangely, the only thing unaffected by the storm was the fire. It still burned merrily, its smoke forming a straight column.

“She’s coming! It’s her!” Jack shaded his eyes with his hand and stared at a rapidly growing point on the horizon. Rose recognized the ship from all the drawings and models in his house.

The Black Pearl came to a halt next to the fishing boat, and long strands of kelp began to cover its sides, reaching, searching for something. One of the persons milling around on the vessel got caught in the slimy tendrils and was pulled overboard. Now a huge assembly of small crabs welled out from the rough waves and carried the unlucky sailor ashore, until he lay by the goddess’ feet. 

The man struggled against his seaweed bonds, but they were wound tightly from his neck down to his toes. He looked to be in his forties, with a rough face covered with scars and a scraggly beard, and on his head he wore a triangular captain’s hat. A small capuchin monkey clung to the hat, looking at Calypso with large, frightened eyes. Rose felt sorry for it.

“A captain for a heart,” said Calypso.

“Deal,” said Jack, and taking a careful step forward he dropped the necklace into her outstretched hand. As soon as it touched her palm the goddess began to shrink, losing some of her fearful appearance and becoming more like a human woman. 

She was pretty, ample and sensual, and looked at the gem like one might a great treasure. She stroked it almost reverently, her finger following it’s ruby contours.

Jack took the hat from the bound pirate, and shaking off the monkey he placed it on his own head. The man scowled up at him. 

“Jack Sparrow. I should have known this accursed wind was your doing!”

“It’s _Captain_ Jack Sparrow.” He gave the other a smug smile. 

Calypso had finished admiring her heart and turned her attention back to Jack. “This ship will bring you no happiness, Jack Sparrow. She is a curse!” Her voice was no longer a loud roar, but still sounded ominous. “The Black Pearl is making your heart black too – already she is pulling you away from what really matters. Another Pearl… Who will hate you in time.”

Jack stared at her mutely, his smile slowly waning. 

“All is not lost yet. There are choices, and there are sacrifices.”

Then she went on to Elizabeth, who had just added another piece of driftwood to the fire. “King Elizabeth of the Brethren Court, I am grateful to you for what you did not long ago, when you made sure I was freed from my human form. But it is no easy thing you wish for. Your husband is stuck outside time, immortal and bound to the ship. It will not allow him to go – for the Dutchman must have a captain.”

Elizabeth stared at her in dismay, tears filling her eyes. “Is there really no way?”

Instead of answering, Calypso turned to Rose. “It’s time to leave. Your afterlife has long awaited you.”

“I don’t want to.” Rose felt her lip tremble. Calypso reached for her but she backed away.

“You wish to stay here?”

Rose nodded quickly. Her heart was racing uncontrollably, she did not want to die.

“Well, you can’t,” said the goddess flatly. “The Heart kept you alive this long – _my_ heart. Without it you will fade away, stretch out like butter scraped over too much bread, until nothing remains of you but a thin shadow. A ghost. And when that happens, you will be forever stuck in this world, seen by nobody, feeling nothing, never to move on to the afterlife.”

“Don’t do it, miss, if you don’t mind my interrupting,” said the bound pirate. “I tried the ghost life for ten years and it’s nothing I can recommend.”

“Aye, ‘twas horrible!” Rose looked up to see a group of motley sailors who apparently had come from the black ship. The one speaking had a wooden eye.

Rose felt trapped. She did not want to die, but she did not want to be a ghost either. She was caught between a rock and a hard place, none of the choices at all appealing.

Then Jack made a sudden move. He dashed down to the water, snatching the Heart from Calypso’s hand and quickly scuttled back to safety. He tossed the necklace to Rose who automatically caught it. 

“Foolish man! Give it back!” roared Calypso. 

“I need to borrow it again, sorry.”

“Damn you, Jack Sparrow! Curse your black heart! Soon your pathetic fire has burned down and then I’m coming for you.”

Jack only grabbed another rum bottle and emptied it over the fire, with huge flames erupting as a consequence. 

“Rose, give me my Heart. You have no right to it.” Calypso imperially held out her hand. 

Rose swallowed, looking from the jewel to Calypso and back again. They would run out of rum soon, and what would then happen? She was only delaying the inevitable. Whatever was she going to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, what should she do? And will she ever forgive Jack? At least he gave her the Heart back, preventing her turning into a ghost, but he also held a sword to her neck. Not the average loving boyfriend, that man.


	13. An Impossible Choice

“You are no thief, Rose. You’re only postponing the inevitable.” Calypso’s hand was still stretched out. She had almost lost her humanoid appearance entirely now, her features were shifting, changing, a multitude of sea creatures moving restlessly under her skin.

Rose took a step backwards, frightened by the apparition. But the goddess was right, she was no thief. This was not the way to escape death. If only... if only there was another way. 

But wait! Maybe there was one more thing she could try. She thought of it at the same time as Jack. ”The seashell!" he cried.

Picking up the white pendant she whispered into it: “Otohime.” 

She looked around her expectantly. The lagoon was empty except for the towering sea goddess, and on the shore stood Elizabeth, Gibbs and Jack near the bound pirate – Jack’s enemy. A bit further away huddled the oddly assorted crew from the Black Pearl and the three animals; Hector the pig, Jack the monkey and an unnamed parrot. 

“ _ Drink up ye hearties, yo ho _ ,” said the parrot when her eyes fell on it.

Rose’s hope dwindled. There was no little girl and no sea turtle anywhere to be seen. Otohime had not come. 

_ Had _ her adventure under the sea been a hallucination after all?

“Give me my heart!” boomed Calypso. Waves were rippling around her, a brewing storm, and by the fire Elizabeth was down to the last bottle of rum.

In Rose’s hand, the now scarlet diamond kept throbbing, its pulse spreading uncomfortable through her own body. She did not want it anymore, it was not right for her to keep it, but if she gave it up and stayed here she would become a ghost. 

Was it not better to return it voluntarily and follow the sea goddess to the afterlife? She  _ was _ dead after all. 

Slowly Rose took a step towards the water.

“Don’t do it,” warned Jack, taking her free hand, holding her back. 

She gave him a sad look. “I have to.”

"Damn your conscience." He actually looked pained when he relaxed his grip and let her go. Her hand slowly slipped out of his when she took another step. Maybe Jack still had a heart of his own, and maybe it was not entirely black.

The goddess bent forward, her upturned palm coming down to Rose’s level. With a sense of finality Rose dropped the Heart of the Ocean into it.

“You chose well, Rose,” she said, her voice soft as a breeze. Rose looked at her morosely. She had not actually  _ had _ a choice. 

Slowly Calypso shrunk, solidifying into the pretty woman again in the presence of her heart. She was holding it in both her hands, gazing at the pink diamond lovingly.

Then Rose heard a series of tiny splashes from the lagoon, like someone was paddling across it in a tiny boat.

“A sea turtle,” said Gibbs. “That’s unusual this time of year.”

Rose looked up, a new hope dawning. There it was, the reddish creature from Jack’s beach, steadily closing the distance between them as it swam ashore with even motions. It was her!

“Otohime!” cried Rose. “Please, help! Don’t let Calypso take me!”

The turtle metamorphosed like it had before, turning into the girl. She looked embarrassed and would not meet Rose’s gaze. 

“Uh, hello Rose.” She fidgeted with one of her red tresses.

“Can you help me? You said you would.”

“Umm… you  _ do  _ remember I also said I was the daughter of the Ruler of the Sea?” Otohime glanced at Calypso, who was just putting the Heart around her neck, probably to prevent any new attempts at theft.

Realization struck Rose and her stomach plummeted. “It’s her? Calypso is your mother?” 

The girl nodded and poked the sand with her bare toe. 

Rose groaned in dismay. Just her luck! Every time she found a straw to grasp at it was cruelly ripped away.

Calypso had finally noticed the new arrival. “What are  _ you  _ doing here? You are too young to come ashore,” she scolded. Now that Rose knew it, she could see there was a strong likeness between the two, only the girl's hair was red instead of black.

“Rose called me. I promised to help her because she saved my life.” She pointed accusingly at Jack. “From  _ him _ .”

“Me?” Jack gaped at her, feigning shocked innocence. Everybody ignored him.

“She must go to the afterlife,” said Calypso.

“Aww. Why? Can’t we let her stay?”

“That’s not your concern, child. And why were you even in a position to need being saved? You have a perfectly nice castle to be in, where no treacherous sailors can ever get you!” Calypso frowned sternly in the direction of Jack, who again tried to look innocent.

“I’m never going back there. I want to get older!” The girl stamped her foot, producing a spray of sand. 

“No! It’s not safe.” Calypso looked troubled. “You have to get back before you begin to change.”

“You can’t keep me little forever, mom! It’s not fair.” 

“She’s right,” Rose chipped in. “It must be horrible to be stuck in a child’s body. How old is she?”

“And who is her father?” added Jack casually, brushing off a speck of imagined dust from his hand. He had been Calypso’s lover. Was Otohime another daughter of his? It was clear he worried she was.

“That’s not important,” muttered Calypso, dropping her gaze and shuffling her feet almost like her daughter had before.

“I want to know too,” said Otohime. “My age, I mean, I already know who my father was. He’s dead and his name was Davy.”

“Davy Jones.” Jack breathed out a relieved sigh.

“It’s been around a hundred and fifty years since you were born, give or take,” Calypso admitted.

“A hundred and  _ fifty _ !” yelled Otohime, stamping her foot again. “Mom how  _ could _ you!”

“I just liked to know you were safe. The sea is large and wild, with monsters and evil men. I wanted to protect you.”

“You have to let me go. I must make my own mistakes.”

Calypso sighed in resignation. “You will break my heart, just when I got it back too.” She took Otohime’s hand. “But I guess you are right. I can’t keep you forever.”

“Thank you, mom.” The other stepped into her arms and hugged her. “I’m glad you have your heart back. You’ve changed.”

Rose watched them with mixed feelings. She had done the right thing, the Heart was helping Calypso to be a better mother, but yet she could not really engage with their issues anymore because for the first time she felt the vicinity of Death. Earlier there had been fighting and excitement, strange things happening, and she had not had time to come to terms with her upcoming departure. Now that the inevitable was closing in, it frightened her. Her palms were clammy but her mouth dry as dust, and her heart acted strange, beating too fast and too loudly. 

She needed more time. Time to say her goodbyes, and time to do all the things she had wanted to do but not had the opportunity. What was it  _ her _ Jack had said? Drinking cheap beer and going on the rollercoaster until they threw up, and then ride horses on the beach like cowboys. 

She had never learned to ride. She had never tried the rollercoaster. 

Elizabeth came to stand close, putting an arm around her shoulders comfortingly. She too looked morose. They had both failed, Rose would die and Elizabeth be separated from her husband, doomed to give birth to and raise her child alone.

“I’m sorry, Rose,” she said. “But at least we tried.”

“I’m sorry too. Can you send my love to Captain Turner? And to… Bill.” Her voice broke.

“I will. In … ten … years.” They were both crying openly now. It was distressing to see Elizabeth with tears pouring from her eyes, she had always seemed so strong, like nothing could affect her. But before death and the curse of the Dutchman she was as powerless as anyone.

“Mom,” said Otohime, who had noticed their plight. “I really think you should save Rose like she saved me.”

“And Liz. Please help Liz,” sobbed Rose, hugging her friend. 

Calypso gave them an appraising look. “You have been helpful, both of you. Alright, I will do what I can. But I can only save one. Choose wisely.”

She made a motion with her hands and water from the lagoon flowed up into them, forming a wet, swirling globe, reminding Rose of a snow globe or soap bubble. Then the water slowly dripped out through her fingers again until only a shiny object remained. It was a small box, inset with gleaming pearls and seashells. 

“This was made from a piece of my castle a long time ago. The holder of it will be caught in timelessness, just like visitors to my home. No time will pass as long as its lid is closed.”

“Would it save me from becoming a ghost?” 

“Yes _. _ ”

“Can I have it?” Rose stared at her, not quite daring to hope again after all the setbacks.

“Yes.” She placed the item in Rose’s hand. “But…”

“I  _ knew _ there was a but,” she groaned.

“The Pearl Box works both ways. If someone is stuck outside time, bound in immortality… then they could open it and become free.”

“Will Turner...” Rose’s shoulders slumped. “It could free him from the Dutchman?”

“Yes.”

Rose’s eyes again filled with tears. How could she make such an impossible choice? Her life for Will’s and Elizabeth’s happiness? It was not fair.

“That’s a horrible choice you're giving the poor girl,” said the bound pirate. She had almost forgotten he was even there with all that had happened.

“I only have one box.” Calypso shrugged. 

“But you said the Dutchman must have a captain… that it will not let him go?” said Elizabeth.

“If he leaves, someone must take his place.”

Rose stared at her, feeling her choices narrowing down. An icy chill seeped through her body.  _ She  _ was meant to do this. To open the box for Will and take his place as captain. To be forever bound to the Flying Dutchman. 

Sure, she would be alive, of sorts. But still… She glanced at Jack.  _ Ten years at sea, one day ashore.  _ Would he wait for her? 

Knowing Jack, probably not. 

“I give you three days to decide, then I’ll return.” Calypso took her daughter’s hand and backed out into the deeper part of the lagoon. “Put that out.” She nodded at the still burning remains of the wooden pig.

Gibbs fetched a bucket of water and with a hiss smoke billowed up around him as the fire was drenched. And then the sea goddess and her daughter were gone, with only a series of slowly spreading circles on the surface as proof they had ever been there. 

It became very silent, the people on the beach looking at each other awkwardly. Jack, Elizabeth and Gibbs sheathed their swords, their fight from before temporarily forgotten.

Then Jack took the initiative as usual.

“Soo, who’s up for some adventure?” He rubbed his hand in a businesslike manner, acting unconcerned but doing it so badly he fooled nobody. “My ship needs a crew. What say you?” He nodded at the sailors who had come ashore from the Black Pearl.

“Aye!” they replied in unison.

“ _ Wind in your sails _ !” added the parrot from its perch on one of the men’s shoulder.

“Great. Lovely.” Jack grinned wide. Then he turned to Gibbs and Elizabeth. “And you? Wanna come?”

“Not this time, Jack,” said Gibbs. His normally so cordial features had a stern, reproving expression.

“How dare you even ask?” Elizabeth’s face was pale and her cheeks bright red. “If you had not been so selfish and taken the Heart for yourself, we could have used it to bargain for both Rose’s and Will’s lives. Thanks to you, we now have an impossible choice to make! How could you, Jack? I thought better of you.”

Jack’s grin remained but it was wavering, plastered to his face seemingly with effort as he turned to Rose. “How about you? With your new fancy pearl box you can stay alive. It will be fun.” He seemed to be looking at a point a little to the left of her shoulder, as if he was afraid to read the disapproval in her eyes. 

Instead of replying, Rose pointedly moved over to Elizabeth’s and Gibbs’ side. Jack’s forced smile waned at last and was replaced with a disappointed frown. 

“Suit yourself then. I already have a crew and they love me.” He raised his voice, speaking to the sailors. “You love me, don’t you?” 

They said nothing, except for the parrot who crowed: “ _ Dead men tell no tales _ .” 

“I didn’t ask you.” He scowled at it. Then he appeared to remember something and turned back to Rose. “Hector… Who's taking Hector?”

The bound pirate replied: “I can take care of myself, thank you.”

“Not you. We named the pig Hector.” He looked so smug he was positively gloating. “ _ You _ , Hector Barbossa, will be marooned together with your monkey on a very quaint little island, that we’re both familiar with. Seeing as you marooned me there  _ twice _ .”

The pirate did not reply, but if looks could kill Jack would have been buried already. 

“Where was I… right. Hector.  _ Pig _ Hector. Shall I take him with me?”

“He stays with me.” Rose crossed her arms. “Piracy is no life for a young pig. It’s no life for anybody in the long run, what with it being  _ illegal _ and all, and pirates getting  _ hanged _ . Hector is an honest pig.”

“But consider what a great life he would get! Freedom! Adventure! He could be happy if he would just accept one can be a pirate  _ and _ a good man. I mean pig.” He took a step closer, finally meeting her gaze. She knew he was not talking about Hector. 

The earnest appeal in his eyes almost made her waver in her decision, but then she remembered what had just happened.

“What if his captain suddenly decided to threaten poor Hector with a sword? He could never be with someone as untrustworthy as that.” 

He flinched, his gaze again dropping. “That was a mistake. I would never hurt Hector, savvy? He knows that. Doesn't he?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “But he would always come second, you know. You would always love the Black Pearl more. How can a pig compete with that? He would be jealous, and with time probably bitter and sour. You would grow to hate him.”

“I could never hate him. I would…” He broke off, looking confused.

“Do you think they are still discussing the pig?” Gibbs’ whisper to Elizabeth was loud enough to carry to them all, but Rose did not care. It was as if the surroundings had faded away, her world narrowing down to just she and Jack.

“Hector wants to be with someone who puts him first,” she said. “Someone who is willing to make sacrifices. Much as it pains Hector to let go, he has to.” 

“What happened with ‘two people finding comfort in each other’s company’? You said that was enough for you,” he said accusingly. 

Rose dropped all pretense of talking about Hector. “I thought it was, but… I realized I want more. The fairytale, you know? The prince in shining armor who leaves his fancy kingdom to find the princess in the tower…”

“You know I can’t give you that.” He looked frustrated.

“I do, and I don’t judge you. It’s who you are, and it’s who I am. We’re just not meant to be. And in a way that makes my choice easier. I shouldn’t keep the box for myself when…” Her voice trailed off. 

“You don’t have to give the box to Will, Rose,” said Elizabeth, who like everyone else had been listening. “We’ll find another way. Somehow.”

“No, Liz. I can’t take that risk.”

“Conscience… You’re a softhearted wuss,” muttered Jack, taking her hand. “We’ll still have that date in the afterlife, then?” There was resignation and sadness in his features now.

“Yes.” Rose’s throat had grown too narrow and her voice came out slightly distorted. 

“I can help you tune your harp. Did I mention I have a fairly good singing voice?” He stroked her fingers with his thumb. 

“No. I shall enjoy hearing it.”

He seemed reluctant to leave and Rose was too full of emotion to say anything more. Instead she crept into his arms, burying her moist face in the nape of his neck and drawing in his scent one last time. He hugged her back almost a little too tightly. 

Only Rose heard his final words, whispered so faintly she barely perceived them: “I shall miss you.”

And then Captain Jack Sparrow was gone, sailing out of her life with his motley crew, taking his fettered enemy and the monkey with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I may have been slightly inspired by “Pretty Woman” in part of the dialogue between Jack and Rose. Good movie quotes are there for the takers, right?! :)


	14. The Pearl Box

Three days can feel like forever. When waiting for something you really look forward to, or for a boring chore to be over, time passes ever so slowly. The seconds stretch out before you in an endless procession. But when they are all you have left to live, three days are nothing. 

Elizabeth felt bad for wanting time to go faster when every hour brought her friend’s death nearer. But how could she not? She had waited for Will so long, liked him since they were children, seeing him grow from a pretty boy into a handsome man. When he finally confessed his feelings for her it had still taken ages until they could be married, with so many obstacles coming in their way.

And then he had died, just after their chaotic wedding, and become bound to the Flying Dutchman, caught in the same curse that had eventually killed Davy Jones. It was not right. 

Now, for the first time in months, she felt hope for the future. With Calypso’s gift she would get her husband back.

Before they sailed away, Elizabeth had half-heartedly tried talking Rose out of giving up the Pearl Box, but they both knew she only did it to be polite – of course she did not want the other to keep it. She had her baby to consider now, and no matter how much she liked Rose she loved Will more. And just as expected, the girl had refused. 

Elizabeth gave Rose a guilty glance. Soon she would be gone and never again smile sweetly and call her Liz. Why did she have to choose between her new friend and Will? 

A thought struck her. Would Rose be sailing with the Flying Dutchman instead of him? Calypso had been vague, stating it must have a captain but failing to specify  _ who _ . If so, Elizabeth might be able to see her friend again every ten years. The thought did not make her feel any less guilty.

Rose sat with Hector’s head in her lap, leaning her back against the mast with closed eyes while scratching the pig’s sturdy neck. The wind ruffled her copper curls, and in contrast with her pale skin her lips looked crimson. She was beautiful, inside and out. 

Death was unfair. So horribly unfair, always picking the best ones. Will, her father… and long ago, her mother. 

Rose seemed unusually demure and Elizabeth suspected it had also to do with the separation from Jack Sparrow – for some obscure reason the girl had taken a liking to the pirate. That problem, at least, had solved itself with him sailing away with the Black Pearl. He was not good for her, much too old and much too bad. 

Still… there had been moments she herself had felt Jack’s charisma. She could well understand that Rose had fallen for it, young as she was.

Elizabeth checked the compass and adjusted the Barnacle’s course a few degrees. She did not really know where she was heading, just that it was away from the island where they had summoned Calypso. Perhaps she ought to ask Rose? Let her decide what she wanted to do with her last days in life. Like a condemned criminal before his hanging.

“Where would you like to go, Rose? And how would you spend the time left? Pick whatever you want and me and Gibbs will make it happen if we can. Right?” She turned to the sailor who sat cross legged on the deck, mending a rift in his shirt from the fight with Jack.

“Aye. Anything.”

“Do you have rollercoasters in this time?” Rose’s voice was small and sad.

“Roller-what?”

“Never mind. Let’s go to Tortuga. That inn we stayed in? I want to drink cheap beer. But first I want to ride a horse – like a man, mind you, with the legs on either side.”

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

They spent the afternoon horseback riding in the countryside and having a picnic by the sea. Both Elizabeth and Rose used men’s saddles, and even tried jumping over obstacles on their way back. Gibbs tried too, but after he had fallen off his gelding twice he decided he was more fond of walking. 

In other circumstances Elizabeth would have enjoyed the outing immensely, but now there was a bitter aftertaste to everything. She just could not dispel the awful sense of finality. 

Afterwards at the inn, Rose drank like there was no tomorrow. There  _ would  _ be a tomorrow, but only three more for her. 

“Come, Liz, let’s dance!” 

Elizabeth found herself dragged up to an open space between the tables, where Rose hooked her arm as she had done that time before in what felt like another life. Just like then, they began to spin, around and around.

“Come Josephine, in my flying machine!” sang Rose. “Going up she goes, up she goes…” She had a horrible singing voice which did not improve with large amounts of beer, especially since the musicians in the corner played an entirely different tune. 

“What’s a flying machine?” yelled Elizabeth over the din.

“What it sounds like. You can fly in it.”

“Fly?” Elizabeth laughed. Rose must be very drunk to talk such nonsense.

“Yes, where I come from, we don’t need roads! But I guess you guys aren’t ready for that yet.”

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

In the morning of the third day, Calypso and her daughter returned. They came walking along the street outside the inn, looking for all the world like a normal woman and her child. The goddess still wore the heart-shaped diamond around her neck, but it looked different, smoother and softer. More like a living organ than a sharply cut rock.

Rose was ready. She had kept herself alone all the previous day, spending it at a desolate beach some way outside the town just thinking. Now she meekly went out to the sea goddess, carrying the Pearl Box in her hands, with Gibbs, Elizabeth and Hector following suit. 

Elizabeth also carried a box, the ornate chest that contained her husband's living heart. Soon it would be back in his body where it belonged, and she had trouble keeping her excitement at bay. If ever there was a bittersweet moment, this was it.

“What is your choice?” asked Calypso.

“I choose to give the box to Will Turner.”

“Then come with me.” Calypso’s voice was soft and her dark eyes kind.

Leaving the busy town behind, they walked to the harbor and out on the jetty where the Barnacle was moored. Calypso let out a shrill, nonhuman sound, like a whistle. Almost instantly a couple of slender dolphins appeared, jumping playfully and responding with similar whistles and a series of clicks.

Calypso clicked back, sounding for all the world as if she had a conversation with them, and then they dived and were gone. 

“She told them to fetch the Flying Dutchman,” translated Calypso’s daughter, who had slid her hand into Rose’s. They looked cute together, like sisters. Their hair had almost the same auburn hue, but where Rose’s skin was alabaster the younger girl’s was a dark bronze.

A movement out in the bay drew her attention. The Dutchman surfaced in a burst of waves and foam, and behind the wheel, tall and proud, stood her beautiful man. Elizabeth’s heart nearly burst with love just at the sight of him.

Calypso and Otohime swam to the ship in the form of sea turtles while the rest of them rowed out in Gibbs' dinghy. Will came to meet Elizabeth at the railing, pulling her up from the rope ladder and into a hard hug. She buried her nose in the crook of his neck, filling her nostrils with the tangy scent of sea water and musk. 

“What’s happening?” he murmured against her hair. “Why did Calypso summon us and why is Rose still here? Didn’t it work with the Heart of the Ocean?”

“Calypso has a box… it’s a long story, but it will set you free.”

“Free?” He took a step back so he could meet her gaze, his dark eyes full of doubt.

She only nodded, too overwhelmed with emotion to speak. She realized she was crying. She  _ never _ cried, she must be getting soft by all this.

Rose held out her cupped hands to Will, the Pearl Box glittering between them. With a pang of remorse, Elizabeth noted how much her friend’s fingers trembled. 

Will gingerly took it, examining the beautifully crafted object with curiosity.

“If you open the lid, you will be released,” Calypso said. “You will no longer be trapped outside time, meaning you will begin to age, and in time, die as all mortals do.” 

“That’s all I have to do? Just open it?” He sounded confused.

“Yes. But know that when you do, another’s heart has to be cut out to replace yours in the chest. The Dutchman must have a captain.”

Rose winced visibly and her face went white as a sheet. Elizabeth took a step closer in case she would faint and wrapped her arms around her. She felt sick knowing what the other would have to endure.

“Whose heart?” Will also looked shaken.

“Mine.”

The voice had come from behind them, and Elizabeth turned in surprise.

“I’ll replace my son.” Bill Turner had already drawn his knife. 

“No!” Will shook his head. “You can’t! I swore I would set you free.”

“I still have another ninety-odd years to serve before the mast. What difference does it make?

“But you would be bound to the Dutchman forever.”

“I’m the first mate. It’s my duty.” 

“I can’t allow it.” Will turned to Rose. “Take this back, I can’t do that to my father. Or anyone else, for that matter.” He put the box in her unresisting hands, wrapping her fingers around it. She stared at it, dumbfounded. 

Elizabeth felt a tendril of fear. She had been so sure this was the day her husband would be free, but she had not anticipated his sense of justice. Of course he would not simply accept someone giving up their life for him. 

Her stomach plummeted. Would their chance of happiness again be crushed?

Bill grabbed his son’s shoulders, shaking him lightly. “Be reasonable, William. I’m old and got nothing else to live for.  _ You _ are all I care about.”

“And don’t forget the baby,” added Elizabeth. ”It needs a father.”

“Baby?” Bill’s face lit up and he smiled widely. “I’ll be a grandpapa?”

“Yes.” Elizabeth smiled back.

“That settles it. No way am I letting you make the same mistakes as I did,” said Bill, turning back to Will. “Your child shall not grow up fatherless. Take the box. Open the lid. I insist.”

Elizabeth had never seen the old sailor look so stern and determined before. 

“But…”

“No buts, boy. Just open it.”

Will swallowed a sob and clasped his father’s hands. “I’ll see you in ten years. Then you shall meet your grandchild.”

“Looking forward to it.” There were tears in Bill’s eyes too, happy tears. 

Will took the box back from Rose, stroking the pearls on its surface. He resolutely squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.

“Alright. Let’s see what’s inside this, then.” He nudged it open a small crack. 

A burst of air soared out, forcing the lid wide ajar. It surrounded Will like a whirlwind, ruffling his clothes and long hair. A tendril of it caught the chest in Elizabeth’s arms and its lid flung up too, revealing the pounding heart within. 

The wind died down as suddenly as it had appeared and everything became entirely still. 

Will unbuttoned his shirt and exposed his chest with the ugly scar over his ribs. His father carefully picked up the heart, regarding it lovingly. “A heart for a heart.” He pushed it against his son’s scarred skin. Right before their eyes it submerged, slowly disappearing until it was fully absorbed.

On the horizon came a bright light – a flash of green.

“A soul has come back to life,” breathed Gibbs.

With a low groan Bill sank to the deck, clutching his own heart. The rest of the crew came nearer, mumbling the same words over and over: “Part of the ship. Part of the crew. Part of the ship. Part of the crew.”

One of them bent over Bill’s prone body, taking the knife from the man’s limp hand. “The Dutchman must have a captain.”

Elizabeth turned away, not wanting to see. She felt arms envelop her and leaned into Will’s embrace.

Then the new first mate stood, sheathing Bill’s knife and holding the chest in his bloody hands. "Take good care of your father’s heart." He gave it to Will.

“I promise.”

“We’ll be back in ten years.”

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

Back at the jetty, Will morosely looked at the point where the Dutchman had disappeared a short while ago, now with his father behind the wheel. He still clutched the chest protectively.

“It’s time to go,” said Calypso. 

Elizabeth's breath hitched. She had nearly forgotten Rose would still have to die; without the box she would begin to fade away.

“Thank you for what you did. I will never forget you.” Elizabeth pulled Rose in for a hard hug, feeling the other cling to her. “I wish you could stay.”

“Me too. But I’m glad I didn’t have to become a captain. I don’t think I would have been any good at it.”

Then Rose said her goodbyes to the two men, solemnly shaking their hands, her eyes dry now. Perhaps she had already shed all her tears. But when she bent down to pet the pig a final time she could not hold back a sob. “Take care of Hector, will you? He likes to have his neck scratched. Like this.”

"We will," said Elizabeth unsteadily, blinking to ease the sting in the corner of her eyes. "Hector shall be the happiest pig in the Caribbean."

“Come now, child,” said Calypso kindly. “Davy Jones’ Locker awaits you.”

“Davy Jones… your lover? I thought I was going to the afterlife?” 

“The Locker is the gate to the Afterworld. It’s a place to prepare you, making you ready for your final destination. And where that is, I do not know.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll follow you there.” Otohime took Rose’s hand. 

The sea goddess turned her head, catching Elizabeth’s gaze. “When he comes, remind him there are choices, and there are sacrifices. All is not lost.” And then a large wave brushed in over the jetty, taking the trio with them.

“When  _ who _ comes?” Elizabeth looked at the wet patch before her feet.

“Him, maybe?” Gibbs indicated an approaching ship. 

“The Black Pearl!” exclaimed Will. 

And that it was. The ship was sailing straight towards them at a furious speed, her black sails billowing. Just when they thought she would crash into the jetty she made a sudden turn, so sharp the crew must have dropped the anchor to cause it. The boards of the Pearl’s hull croaked in protest and all over the deck the pirates fought to remain standing.

A familiar figure dived overboard and swam ashore in quick strokes. “Where is Rose?” he demanded as he crawled up. He looked around him eagerly.

“She’s gone,” said Gibbs. “You were too late. Sorry, mate.”

“Gone…” Jack stared at him in disbelief. “But Calypso said three days… there’s still an hour to go!” Water dripped from his soaked clothes into a puddle around his feet. He clenched his fists and yelled at the sea: “Damn you! Curse you, Calypso! Could you not have waited another hour?” His voice was anguished. 

Elizabeth had never seen Jack so devastated before. Had he actually cared about Rose? Looking at him now, it certainly seemed so. 

Fancy that. Jack in love with a girl. There was a first for everything.

Then she remembered the message. “Calypso said to remind you there are still choices and sacrifices… whatever she meant by that.”

“Sacrifices… choices,” Jack muttered. Suddenly he took a step closer and grabbed her arms a little too hard. “Did Calypso say where she was taking her?”

“Yes. To Davy Jones’ Locker.”

“The Locker, huh!” He began to pace to and fro. “Davy Jones’ Locker. Of course it had to be that awful place. Well, I been there before, I can probably still find the way.” He picked up his strange compass, the one which always pointed to what he wanted the most. The needle spun and came to rest. “A-ha!” Jack’s face cleaved into a pleased grin.

He turned to Gibbs. “Your dinghy. I commandeer it.”

“Aye sir!” Gibbs straightened up and saluted. He was grinning too.

“Good man. Now take this.” Jack removed his captain’s hat and placed it in Gibbs’ hands. Then he whistled. “Hector! Come here boy! You’re going with me.” 

Elizabeth could hardly believe her eyes when Jack raised the tiny sail of Gibbs’ dinghy and set out towards the horizon, patting Hector as he went, all the while mumbling about sacrifices and choices. 

“He left the Pearl,” said Will, equally baffled.

“Hm. So he did.” Gibbs placed the black hat on his head. “I guess I’ll be off too, then. Good luck with the baby.” 

“Goodbye, Gibbs.”

“ _ Captain _ Gibbs, if I may.” He smirked and turned to the motley crew aboard the Black Pearl: ”Ahoy, ye bilge rats! Hoist the colors! This is your new captain speaking.”

From Jack’s dinghy, a few notes drifted back to them: “Yo ho, yo ho … and really bad eggs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not only Rose and Jack are heading towards the endstation, this story is too… 
> 
> Also, I’m a sucker for quote theft… sorry Marty and Doc, but I stole some of your lines. ;)


	15. Davy Jones' Locker

Rose was not afraid anymore. As the warm wave brought her steadily nearer to Davy Jones’ Locker she felt a deep calmness, and a slight curiosity. During the past three days she had finally come to terms with her destiny and accepted that her time was up.

She travelled surrounded by water, but like that time with Otohime she had no trouble breathing. On either side of her she felt the comforting presence of the sea goddess and her daughter, the latter still holding her hand in a secure clasp, and escorting them were the two dolphins from before. The only sound came from their ever-smiling maws, a series of cheerful whistles and clicks.

After an indeterminable amount of time, they arrived outside a white wooden wall with a panelled door that Rose recognized very well. On an oval number plate she read ’B-56’, and underneath it a smaller sign had the words ’First Class’.

“This was my cabin. On the boat…” She reached out to touch the plate. “How could that be?”

“The Locker looks different for everybody,” Calypso explained. “This is the route _you_ must take, with the ghosts _you_ must meet.” 

“Ghosts?” Rose’s eyes popped open.

“Figuratively speaking. The Locker is a place to settle one’s old life and let go of it. Some stay only a short time, some never leave. It all depends on the choices they make and the sacrifices they accept.”

“Accept?”

“Yes. That’s what this is about. Acceptance – and forgiveness.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to understand, just follow your heart.”

After saying her goodbyes to Otohime and Calypso, Rose placed her fingers on the door handle, preparing herself mentally. And then she walked through it, hearing the door shut behind her. She knew without being told she could not open it again. 

From here, she could only go forward.

The carpet was soft under her feet as Rose slowly walked through the familiar First Class suite. The bed was the same, the furniture… everything. It even smelled the same; fresh paint. She was back aboard the Ship of Dreams. The RMS Titanic.

She went to stand before her dresser with the large vanity mirror. She wore that flimsy evening dress again, the one she had drowned in. With a trembling hand she touched her tortoise shell hand mirror and an embellished comb she had worn in her hair. They felt so real. All of this felt real, as if she had travelled forward in time – back to the future. 

Then she noticed there were some differences after all. Around her neck hung the seashell pendant Otohime had given her and instead of the high-heeled pumps she had died in she wore the practical boots Elizabeth had bought. 

The cabin had some changes as well. When she boarded the Titanic that day, she had brought with her her paintings. Monet, Degas, and that promising young artist – Picasso, his name was, if she recalled correctly – and placed them on the tables and chairs to liven up the place. The picture frames were still there, but instead of colorful oil paintings they now contained coal sketches. Most of them were drawings of a ship, the Black Pearl, made by Jack Sparrow. 

With a twinge of longing she wished she was back in that house with sober Jack, just passing the time and doing nothing special. She had enjoyed being with him despite his grumpiness and cheating in dice. She missed sleeping together, hearing his even breathing and feeling his warm form next to her. 

Then she saw the last frame, which had a drawing of herself made by the other Jack, Jack Dawson. In the picture she was naked, wearing _only_ the Heart of the Ocean. 

How erotic that moment had been! She still felt a flutter of excitement at the memory. The cool air against her bare skin, the dry rasping of his pencil, his eyes coming up to look at her over the edge of his sketchpad.

She longed for that Jack too. They had gotten much too little time together and no real closure. 

Rose heard a noise from the other room and her mother entered. 

“There you are. Are you wearing those vulgar boots again? You know I don’t like that.” Her voice was as calm and impassive as always.

“Mother…” Rose whispered, reaching out her hand towards the woman but then dropping it, not quite daring to touch her in case she would prove to be an incorporeal ghost.

“Turn around, I’ll help you with your corset.” As in a dream, Rose obeyed, discovering she was suddenly in her shift. She felt her mother grasp the strings and pull. The woman was no ghost then, an incorporeal being was certainly not capable of lacing up a corset. “I don’t get you,” Ruth scolded. “How could you be so selfish? Drowning with that boy instead of marrying Cal, ensuring our survival.” She tied the final knot and twirled Rose to face her. “Do you know what I must do now?”

Wordlessly Rose shook her head.

“I have to work as a seamstress. Thanks to you, our fine things were sold at an auction – our memories scattered to the winds. Now I have to work for a living. Was that what you wanted?”

Feeling a pang of guilt, Rose opened her mouth to say no, but shut it when she recalled the friends she had made on the Titanic. All of them had been hard working men and women; Fabrizio, Olaf, Helga, Tommy… Jack Dawson.

“Don’t be so proud. There is nothing wrong with honest work,” she said. 

“This from you, who loves a _pirate_.” Mother’s voice was teeming with scorn. “He’s never done an honest day's work in his life. And you’re becoming just as bad as him.”

“I am _not_ like a pirate! I would never sink that low,” she protested, offended.

“Oh, so you think yourself better than him? You say I’m proud, but you’re no different.”

She was right, Rose _did_ think herself better than Jack. He was the pirate, the thief, the drunkard – whereas she was generous and noble, who had sacrificed her life for Will and Elizabeth. 

The truth of Mother’s words stung, but Rose knew she had needed to hear them. 

She thought about the pirate way of living. Was it so different from what her family had done? They had lived on ‘old money’ earned by her ancestors in dubious ways, often by using others – the poor and the less educated, who could be made into indentured workers and slaves. And she had accepted it, wearing the fine clothes and jewellery, eating the expensive food.

As for giving up her life… In all honesty she had not really had much choice. She had given the Pearl Box to Will because she knew the alternative would have made _her_ miserable; hated by everybody, leading an immortal life alone in a world she did not know. 

She had no right to look down on Jack and his lifestyle – especially knowing how limited his choices had been as a teenage father. One whose own father also was a pirate.

“I’m not better than him,” she said at last. “We both are what we are because of who we were born to.”

Mother’s gaze softened and she smiled fondly, stroking Rose’s cheek. “Well done. You passed the first test.”

”I did? What do I win?”

Mother pointed at a door that had appeared on the other side of the room. “Passage to the Second Class. Good luck!”

Rose left the cabin and found herself on the poop deck in the stern. Her clothes had changed again, now she wore a burgundy evening dress – but still the same men’s boots. It was dark, late evening or night, and all around her was the open expanse of the sea. 

Someone stood by the white metal railing ahead, looking down at the white trail of foam following the ship. 

When Rose came closer, she saw it was Elizabeth. She wore an identical dress as Rose, but it looked much better on her. Its color suited her dark eyes and brown hair. 

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, hello. I was just looking at the propellers.”

Rose went to join her, looking down too, remembering another night not long ago. It had been bitingly cold and she had balanced outside that railing in the same thin dress she and Elizabeth wore now. How desperate she had felt! She had seen her whole life before her, an endless parade of parties and gala dinners, yachts and polo matches. She had thought about ending it, taking the quick way out – but then Jack had come. Jack Dawson. 

“You wouldn’t have jumped,” said Elizabeth. Jack had said the same thing, and maybe he had been right. Rose was a coward. 

Oh how she wished she was brave like Elizabeth. Strong and unafraid, both mentally and physically. The pirates had even assigned her King among their Brethren, and she was a skilled sword fighter. 

Unlike Rose, Elizabeth had stood up against her father when he wanted her to marry out of convenience. She had chosen Will – a simple blacksmith – instead of the renowned commodore her father would have preferred. When in the same situation, Rose had agreed to marry Cal, never openly defying her mother.

She envied her friend.

“ _Why_ wouldn’t you have jumped, Rose? Think about it with a rational, open mind.”

Again she recalled the stormy emotions from that night. She had thought about her mother and how badly Rose’s death would impact her, she had also thought of alternatives – that there may be other ways to escape the trap and she ought to think it through first. 

“I was being logical about it,” she said, surprised. “I wasn’t afraid of dying, I just did not want to cause my mother pain. And I wanted to live, I wanted to grow old and have an interesting life. I think I realized that there’s always a lifeline, some way out.”

“And then Jack Dawson came, and you grabbed the lifeline that was him. That took courage.”

“You’re right. In the end, I chose the man I wanted. I even let him draw a nude painting of me and put it in Cal Hockley’s safe.” She giggled at the memory. “And later I went down into the sinking ship to save him, cutting him loose with an axe. I _am_ like you, Liz! ” 

She hugged her friend, no longer jealous.

“You are,” said Elizabeth. “And now it’s time to get down there again. Third Class awaits you!” She pointed at a stairwell.

Rose walked down the steps and came to a steel gate. Last time she saw that, it had been locked to keep the Steerage passengers inside until the First Class people had boarded the lifeboats. She felt a surge of rage at the memory. How cruel! So many innocent lives had been taken that night.

She passed through the gate and was in a familiar corridor, narrow and claustrophobic just like before, but at least it was not half full of water now. On the other end she saw a familiar man.

“Hey, slut!” he called. “I can’t believe you got tired of your gutter rat already. You have worked your way through no less than three men in a month. Bravo!” He clapped his hands three times, one dark eyebrow raised sardonically. Caledon Hockley was a master of putting on a scornful face.

“You bastard!” growled Rose, starting to walk towards her former fiancé, and then speeding into a run. “I hate you! Thanks to people like _you_ so many on the Titanic had to drown. Selfish, proud pricks who think of themselves as masters of the universe.” She spotted a case with a fire-axe in it and paused to break the glass and pull it out, hefting the heavy tool in her both hands.

Cal only smiled languidly, his black eyes sparkling with mirth. It drove her mad. She wanted to mash that smirk off his too-pretty face with her axe. 

She had almost reached him when she began to have second thoughts. She was still fuming with justified wrath but hesitated to cleave another person’s face. It would be messy. And there was a Commandment forbidding it. She had never murdered before and now when she was just about to enter the afterlife probably was a bad time to start.

Her steps slowed until she was standing still, trembling, her heart pounding. What should she do?

“I _am_ a master of the universe. Those who survived the Titanic were the better half of the passengers, whereas whores and beggars like you and your painter boy followed her down. It was for the better – cleansing the world of some of its trash.” He still wore that infuriating smile.

“ _You_ …” Rose tried to kill him with her glare instead of with her axe. Then she remembered Elizabeth’s trick and imagined Cal with his drawers on fire, white-hot flames scorching his balls. She saw before her inner eye how his smile changed into a shocked expression and he emitted an unmanly yelp of pain. The amusing picture made her chuckle.

The anger seeped off her and she dropped the axe to the floor with a heavy thud. Cal was just a little boy in a suit, a spoiled brat who had always gotten his way. He was not worth her time or her energy. Only her contempt.

“You’re pathetic,” she said calmly. “You lost your bride-to-be and your diamond, and soon you’ll lose your youth and be a fat old man drinking brandy and smoking cigars while you complain about how you miss the old days. You’ll never be happy because you measure happiness in wealth, and the more money you make the more you want. You’ll never be satisfied.”

Cals gaze softened in a way it never had in real life. “You’re right. I’ll never realize this, and therefore I’m going to die miserable and alone. But for you there is hope. I’m glad you didn’t give in to your anger.”

“I forgive you, Cal,” said Rose.

He nodded his head in acceptance and indicated a door behind him, it had a blue sign saying ‘Fourth Class’. “Time to move on.”

Behind the door was a small chamber full of steam and foul smelling coal smoke from the ship’s engines. In here, Rose and Jack had once hid from Cal’s fiery manservant. A loud roar hit her ears from a big hole in the floor which led to the boilers. She unsteadily climbed down a ladder, noticing in the process that her clothes again had changed. She still had her comfortable boots but now her legs were covered with rough worker’s pants, complete with bracers holding them up, and on top she wore a once white cotton shirt.

When she dropped to the floor below, the noise multiplied tenfold and she covered her ears with her hands. This was a hot and dirty place, bustling with activity as the insatiable furnaces were fed with a continuous supply of coal by strong-looking stokers. 

Was this hell? But no, the men were singing a catchy song over the din and despite the terrible working conditions they looked cheerful.

Then she suddenly recognized one of the stokers. “Father!” 

“Rose!” He gave her a hard hug, soiling her clothes further with his coal-coated hands, but instead of smoke he smelled his usual pipeweed and mothballs. 

When she had wiped her eyes from an outburst of tears, she took a good look at the man before her. He seemed strong and fit, much unlike the way he had looked in life, and a lot more happy too. 

“Welcome to an honest day’s work,” he said. “Here, take this, and we can do it together.” He placed a shovel in her hands and grabbed a full wheelbarrow, pushing it to one of the blazing furnaces. Picking up a shovel of his own, he took turns with Rose to feed the fiery maw. 

Soon Rose was soaking with sweat and the handle of the shovel had given her blisters, but it felt good too, using your body for hard labour. 

“When I was alive I used to despise workers,” yelled her father to override the roar from the fire. “I was such a sloth.”

“Was that why you gambled?”

“No, that was because I was an addict.”

“I wish I could have helped you.”

He paused, resting on the shovel as he looked at her closely. “No Rose, an addict must help themself,” he said seriously. “It was not your job.” He stroked her cheek. “Now, get on with you to the next Class, I manage quite well for myself here.”

She hugged him one last time. “See you in the afterlife, Papa.”

“Don’t hurry to it dear. Maybe there is another adventure waiting for you first, who knows?”

Rose left the boiler room and went up a long stair and through a door into an elegant gentlemen’s smoking lounge. The contrast with the bustling area she had just left was striking; this place was silent, clean and very neat. The walls were mahogany panels and the linoleum floor tiled in red and blue, and comfortable leather chairs sat around several square card tables. 

All the tables were unoccupied except for one, around which sat Mr Andrews who had built the Titanic, Mr Ismay of the White Star Line who owned her, and Mr Guggenheim, one of the millionaires who had drowned when she sank. Above them was a cloud of tobacco fumes and each held a brandy glass in one hand and a stack of pound notes in the other. The table was cluttered with cards and markers.

Rose took the vacant chair, noticing she was back in her burgundy dress as she sat. “What are you doing?”

Mr Andrews looked up and provided her with a friendly smile. “Ah, Rose. I’m sad to see that you died after all. I thought I had built you a strong ship, but alas, I was wrong. I was wrong in so many ways when I was alive.”

“Same,” said Guggenheim. 

“I survived,” said Mr Ismay.

“You were still wrong though,” said Guggenheim.

“Wrong how?” asked Rose.

“We were greedy.”

The other two nodded agreement.

“But we practice to be generous now,” said Ismay, indicating the table. “We wager money and then we play. When someone wins he donates the pot to charity.”

“What will you do when all the money's gone?”

“Then we will wager our clothes.” 

“Don’t look so shocked,” said Mr Andrews, smiling again. “You won’t have to watch. You were never greedy, so this place is not for you. You’ll find the Sixth Class that way.” He pointed at a set of double doors with black wrought iron panels.

“The Dining Saloon!” She eagerly hurried to open them, being quite hungry after her exertion as a stoker. Behind the doors was the large, white room with its beautiful pillars she remembered so well, and one of the many tables was laden with all her favorite dishes. Gibbs sat at the table with a plate of cookies before him, he was just pouring coffee into a neat china cup.

“Coffee!” Rose almost ran to him. “Please, can I have a cup too?”

“Of course.” The sailor gave her his broad, friendly smile and poured another cup. “Cheers, miss!”

“Cheers!” Rose clinked her cup together with his and put it to her mouth, but when she tasted the sweet, strong flavour she nearly spat it out again. “This is port wine!” She grimaced, disappointed. 

“Have a cookie instead.”

She gingerly tried one of them, but alas, it was hard and wooden, tasting exactly like hardtack crackers soaked in rum. 

Suddenly she understood what this strange place was all about – the Classes, the people, the lessons.

“I’m not a glutton, why do I have to be punished with port wine and hardtack?” She heard how whiny her voice sounded, but she really missed coffee and nice food after her weeks at sea.

“It’s so you’ll realize what you’ll be missing out on – if you go back.”

“Go back? But… I thought there was no way back?” 

“Hmm?” Gibbs smiled secretively. 

_Was_ there a way for her to return to the Caribbean Sea and her friends? Come to think of it, her father had hinted something similar. But could she dare to hope yet another time? And how would she ever find her way out of the Titanic?

“I must go. There is one last Class?” 

“One more, aye.” 

A solid metal gate had appeared in the back of the room, with a huge seven painted on it. Rose opened it and found herself in the Cargo Hold, right before a brand new Renault touring car, and she was wearing one of the more daring dresses she had owned. She was not surprised. 

“Lust,” she sighed. _That_ sin at least she had been guilty of many times, one of them in the back seat of that very vehicle.

Two old men stood with their backs to her, admiring the Renault, discussing its many comforts in low, cracked voices. As they turned around, she recognized them despite the changes many decades had brought upon their faces. 

“Jack and Jack,” she greeted them.

“Rose,” they said in unison.

Jack Dawson opened the door to the upholstered back seat and politely helped Rose inside. 

“Would you still have wanted me when I became like this?” he asked, sitting down beside her. 

“Yes.” Despite his wrinkled face and white, wispy hair she felt a warmth at seeing him again. His eyes were the same, and she realized she still saw his old self when looking at him. In her mind, he would always be that boyish young man she had fallen in love with. “We would have been good for each other, I think. With you, I would have lived the life I dreamed of, and you would have become more aspiring, not just meekly accepting the role society had designated for you.”

“What about me, then?” Jack Sparrow squeezed himself in on her other side, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. He had lost almost all his teeth and the two remaining ones were brown. Probably all that sweet rum’s work. His long hair was iron gray and as usual held back by a red scarf under his pirates’ hat.

“Definitely.” She desired him even now, as strange as that was. “With you I would have had so much fun. And annoyance. An adventurous life, never knowing what the next day would bring.”

“What if you could have neither of us?” asked Jack Dawson. “I’m dead, and Sparrow cares only for his ship. What would you do then?”

“Nothing. I would be with my friends, maybe marry if I fell in love with another man and he loved me too – but there is nothing wrong with living alone. I don’t need a man to make me happy.”

“Then I shall escort you out,” said Jack Sparrow, taking her hand in a frail grip.

She passed through yet another door and nearly bumped into Edward Smith, captain of the Titanic, who was looking through a round window where an iceberg floated past the ship.

“Good day, Captain,” said Rose, smoothing out her pants. Now she wore the men’s clothes she had used aboard the Barnacle. “Is this the end of the Locker?

“That’s right, Miss DeWitt Bukater. Over there are the stairs with the clock, and you will find they go two ways; up and down. You are entitled to go up, if you so choose.”

“Really?” Did he imply she was worthy of Heaven? Rose felt her lips quirk up.

“Oh, don’t look so smug, it’s none of your doing.” The captain’s white beard waggled when he chuckled. “You are entitled to go up because the entrance ticket has been paid for you.”

“Paid? By whom?”

“The Captain, of course! Not me, obviously, because I’m dead. I’m talking of the Captain of Heaven. He loves you more than both those Jack’s put together. He paid the price so that no matter what you’ve done you’re forgiven. Can you accept that?”

“Yes.” She felt a surge of warmth, a mingle of embarrassment and happiness. How could she not have realized? Then another thought struck her. “But if all is forgiven, why did I have to go through all those tests?”

“Because for you, going up the stairs is not the only choice. Now, get on with you, someone’s waiting for you by the clock.”

Rose looked up and with a sharp pang she saw it was Jack Dawson, young and handsome again, just like he had looked when he was alive.

She ran up the steps, two at a time, and Jack turned to meet her, a boyish grin brightening his face. He looked _real_ in a way she could not quite explain. 

“Is it really you?” she asked, her voice hoarse. “Not another ghost?”

“It’s me.” His smile widened. “And are you _you_?”

“Yes!” She blinked to hold back the tears burning in her eyes. Her heart burned with so many emotions she could not even sort them. Was she happy, or sad, or in love, or ashamed? Then his arms were around her and he smelled just as she remembered, his slim body felt the same and when he kissed her hungrily, so did his lips. It really was him! 

“But why are you still here?” she asked when they finally broke the kiss. “It was a long time since you… passed away.” She swallowed hard at the memory of his frozen body sinking to its grave at the bottom of the ocean.

“I just came from the seven terraces, there were a few things I felt I needed to settle. You too?”

“Yes.” She swallowed again as a crushing wave of guilt hit her. “But I… I did not come here directly. It’s hard to explain.”

“Tell me.” He smiled encouragingly. 

So she did. With the clock ticking behind them she told him everything that had happened since they parted, not even leaving out her night with Jack. Her _other_ Jack.

“You forgot me fast, didn’t you.”

Another wave of guilt hit her, but then she saw he was grinning wider than before. 

“I’m only teasing you.” He took her hand, stroking her fingers reassuringly. “I have learned not to be jealous or angry.”

“I’m sorry I let go of you so soon.”

His face turned serious. “Rose, when I said to never let go I was talking of life, not of me. Remember how I told you you would die an old lady in your bed? For you there’s another choice. Someone has come to bring you back, and now you have to either let go of me – or follow me. You can’t have both.” He pointed up the stairs. “And that’s where I’m going.” 

Rose saw a bright, white light shining down on her. She had to avert her eyes, but yet she felt a strong desire to get closer to it. 

“Even if you leave now you’ll get here later. And I’ll wait for you. It’ll be fun, you can tell me of your kids and all the exciting adventures you had.” He meant it, she realized. He really was not resenting her for what had happened. 

“Oh Jack!” She kissed him again, a farewell kiss this time. “You really are an amazing person.”

“Just reformed. Up there we’ll all be like this.” He grinned. “I can see you’ve made your choice.” He squeezed her hand, and dropped it. “Good luck.”

He took a step upward, and then another one.

“I will never forget you, Jack!” she called after him. And then he was gone, enveloped by light and warmth.

Rose sighed and turned to walk back down when she saw another man standing at the foot of the stairs, regarding her calmly.

“Jack…” she whispered, again feeling the pressure of guilt. “You… you saw that?”

“I did.” He looked a bit different from when they had parted after the summoning of Calypso, cleaner, calmer – almost like when he visited his daughter. His triangular hat was gone, but the red scarf at least remained, for which she was almost grateful. She needed him to look real.

“I didn’t go with him,” she said, walking down another step but hesitating to join him. _He_ did not appear ‘reformed’, she was fairly sure _he_ could still feel jealousy.

“I’m glad you didn’t. But then, I’ve always been a selfish bastard.” He smiled wryly as he reached up to take her hand, pulling her closer until she stood on the floor before him.

“You’re not mad?”

He shook his head. “How could I be? You’re clearly mentally unstable, choosing me over Mr Pretty Boy.”

She laughed, but at the same time feeling her chest grow tight. What had it cost him to come here and look for her? Only to find her kissing another man.

Jack harkled. “Sorry if this will sound cheesy, but… I kind of practiced a li’l speech, savvy?”

“I’m all ears.” Rose tried to look serious and failed. Oh Jack! He was so like himself, even here at the end of the world.

He fell on one knee, still holding her hand. “I want to be with you, Princess Rose. I own no shining armor, so I can’t save you from a tower. But I was kinda hoping you could save _me_?”

“I can’t,” she said earnestly. His lips turned down in disappointment, but she quickly continued. “ _You_ must save yourself. That’s how it works.”

He rose on his feet again, pondering her words. Then he put his arms around her. “Well then. I’ll try.” 

“That’s a good start. One step at a time.” She hugged him back. 

They remained under the stairs for a long time, just hugging, not speaking. Then he took her hand and led her through the final door, out on a sandy beach. The air was warm and tiny crabs came crawling up to them, following in their wake as they walked hand in hand towards the glittering sea ahead.

“Those buggers have taken a liking to me after last time I was here,” he said, poking at one of them with his toe and yelping when it pinched him. 

At the shore a small dinghy waited for them, and inside it sat a familiar pig.

“What happened to the Black Pearl?”

“I had to make a sacrifice.” He shrugged.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. She’s only a ship, mate. I let her go.” He helped her aboard and pushed the boat out a bit before jumping in next to her.

“You chose me before the Pearl?” She could hardly believe it was true.

“M-hm.” He extended one of the oars.

“Wow. There goes your free pirate's life down the drain. With the rum.” 

“What?” He dropped the oar into the water with a splash. “I must have heard wrong, you meant the rum would go down my throat, right?”

“No, I meant the drain.” She smirked. “Stop gaping Johnny, and get this boat going. Hector wants to see your house and meet your daughter.” 

”Alright then, horrible woman. So he shall.” He grinned as he set sail, humming to himself: ”Yo ho yo ho… Drink up me hearties yo ho!” 

The wind caught the dinghy’s tiny sail and soon they were on their way. Just your average family; a woman, a pirate and a pig, beginning a new adventure together.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have stol… borrowed some ideas in this chapter from Purgatorio in Dante’s Divine Comedy.
> 
> Thanks a lot to all who followed, read, left kudos and comments on this story! It means very much to me.
> 
> And if you, future Reader, followed this to the end, don’t hesitate to leave a mark, say hello, tell me what you thought. :)
> 
> Now, on to something else! My mind is full of ideas. Goodbye!


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